All Fall Down
by Safelyliving
Summary: "Something black, tight, and short." He replied in a devious tone. She blushed a deep rose red but shot back, "Umm, let me get this straight. Baggy, long, and fuchsia?" "Exactly." BrucexOC. T:Adult Content and slight language
1. Gotham

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own DC Comics or characters associated with DC. I only own my OC.

_Author's Note:_ This is my second fic, kindness is appreciated. Review or I don't update. (Personally, I like nice reviews.)

_Sub Note:_ My OC's appearance is based off of model Catherine McNeil.

_Another Sub Note:_ Dark Knight did take place; however, Rachel Dawes was not killed; only DA Dent died.

* * *

"Sir, are you sure that I should transfer to Gotham?" a young narcotics detective questioned. Her charcoal eyes begged him to tell her to stay, but she knew better.

"Yes, the narcotics unit desperately needs help, and you're one of the best. Plus, you'll be in charge of the unit." He paused giving her a sly look, "And besides, you'll get to see your old man." The older officer gazed down at his protégé with satisfaction and sorrow. She was his greatest student and the only woman to attain five accommodations within the Washington D.C. Police Department. The unit was going to miss her, but Gotham was in dire need of lawful police.

"I'm going to miss D.C…" her rich voice trailed off as she pulled her reddish brunette hair into a messy ponytail.

"We'll miss you too Regan but duty calls."

"Of course, my plane leaves tonight—on the red eye. Should I dress like a detective or an heiress?"

"Oh well, let's go with detective and then you can surprise Gotham's elite at some useless rich function. Go easy on them too; you've been gone nine years."

Nine years… Detective Regan Carmichael's mind flashed through nine years worth of memories. From studying to be a intelligence research specialist with the DEA, to being transferred into the Narcotics Unit as well as juggling a position with METs (Mobile Enforcement Teams—attack & dismantle drug trafficking & urban violence),to becoming lead detective with her use of advanced tactical and firearm training; the past nine years had been busy.

"Look, Rae, I gotta get back to work. Have a nice flight."

Sending him a nod she replied proudly, "I will Cap'. I'll give you a call tomorrow. See ya around." Her mentor gave her a faint smile as he took an important phone call. She exited his office with perplexing thoughts. Could she handle Gotham? Realizing it was now seven, she said her goodbyes, cleaned out her locker, and left.

As she exited the precinct, Regan noticed a thunderstorm heading her way, _'Maybe it's a sign that I shouldn't go back. On the other hand, Gotham needs good cops.' _Her thoughts shifted to her parents. How would they handle her return? She was the heir to their fortune, and she hadn't been there to learn the business. Meanwhile, her sister appeared in the tabloids, which embarrassed her parents. Every chance Mercedes got, she made a mockery of her family's values, maybe her parents would smile at Regan, knowing that she kept their name clean, and she made it on her own.

When she and her sister had a falling out, Regan decided that she could live without her parent's money, and she did. She paid her way through school, bought her own car and apartment. Moving back to Gotham would mean eventually reconciling with her sister. Regan mentally rolled her eyes and strolled to her used black Honda Civic. After placing her belongings in the trunk, she drove to her apartment where she found her best friend waiting for her. Jillian Westwood was a tall, blonde hair blue eyed woman with a natural talent to win juries over to the prosecution's side. Working as assistant DA, Miss Westwood met Regan by chance at a Starbuck's when she haphazardly spilt her soy latte on the new detective. She became Regan's first real friend in D.C. In fact, Regan wouldn't be leaving D.C. without the assistance of Miss Westwood.

"Always late, Regan? Or just when you're doing something that will benefit you?"

Regan gave her a fake glare and retorted, "No, I wanted to get stuck in traffic, and then pretend that I want to go to Gotham."

Turning serious, Jillian pleaded, "Please tell me that someone's picking you up from the airport."

Regan snorted at her friend's assertion that she wouldn't have made plans. "I already made arrangements in Gotham—my other best friend is expecting me. Thanks for your lack of faith." Regan curtly replied.

"We both know that I have faith in you as a detective, but you're stubborn. I assumed you would revolt in not telling anyone that you're going back." Regan knew her friend was right. She had considered throwing a tantrum, but quickly reminded herself that Mercedes would act that way and resolved to take this transfer in stride. Regan left her friend, and changed into nicer clothes—she couldn't allow her 'ride' to see her in street grunge. _'Always keeping up appearances.'_ She dressed in a pair of gray slacks accompanied by a burgundy soft knit sweater top (with a baby doll bodice and draped detailing on the front). She also wore 2-inch black heels.

Normally, Regan strived for simplicity. Simplicity made her life easier. She didn't have to worry about having a complete look or if the tones completely matched, not counting court. However, she'd have to change that lifestyle once in Gotham. Sighing, she packed the rest of her things and left her plain room. Luckily, that apartment came fully furnished, so her only worries were her clothes, files, and pictures. Since simplicity ruled her life, simplicity's best friend was also there—frugality. She bought what she needed. Primarily her clothes were for undercover assignments, which were very common for her.

"Regan, be sure to call me when you get there, and thanks for letting my brother have your car." Her friend stated smiling.

"No problem and I will." She paused and realized what her friend was implying. "Oh, you're not getting out of driving me to Dulles." Regan nudged her friend playfully.

"Darn you and your listening skills." Jillian countered which she complimented with sticking her tongue out.

"Very mature," Regan retaliated with a sarcastic tone.

"Let's get going. Traffic is going to be awful." Jillian groaned.

"Alright." The duo left the apartment, and Regan stole one final glance at her unpretentious place. Jillian pulled Regan out of the building and shoved her into the ADA's new forest green Honda Pilot but not before loading Rae's luggage.

The drive was silent, until Jillian remembered something important, "Rae, be sure to get laid. You definitely need to."

Regan shot her a glare and cockily asked, "And who would you suggest?"

Smiling wickedly, Jillian replied, "Bruce Wayne."

"No way in heaven. He's been missing—"

"He just got back about two years ago, and he's gorgeous—at least try. There's no harm." Jillian cut in, while retaining her devious smile.

"Bull. You want to live vicariously through me. What would Kyle say if I told—"

"You wouldn't."

"I would." Regan smile triumphantly at her friend's look of defeat. Jillian gazed over at her friend, "Would you do me a real favor, though. Tell DA Dawes that I've got a lead on one of her open cases."

Regan didn't want to be some lap dog for the DAs, "Why don't you call her?"

"Lines could be tapped." Regan shook her head, "And your car bugged?"

"Nope, I check that daily."

"Paranoid."

"Workaholic."

This time Jillian won. Regan temporarily forgot about the case and thought about Bruce Wayne. She'd met him only once…They were both 16.

* * *

_**"You're going to Mr. Earle's Party, Regan. Go get ready." Her mother ordered lovingly. **_

_**"Why isn't Mercedes going? It's her turn." Regan questioned thoughtfully. **_

_**Usually the Carmichael's took one daughter to each function, and the girls just took turns. They used this technique to avoid verbal disputes between the two. **_

_**"No Darling. She's fallen ill. Please go get dressed." **_

_**Regan gave a look of disgust but did as she was told. **_

_**Regan curled her mahogany locks, then loosely French braided them into a messy bun. She dressed herself in her latest purchase: a Michael Kors snake chain halter dress which was guava colored with a twisted neckline with a golden snake chain. The dress flattered her hourglass figure. After that, she did her make-up, which was a smoky effect. She covered her feet with 3 inch white Dior heels. Making her way down their massive staircase, she heard her mother exclaim, "Oh, Regan, you look beautiful."**_

_**The Carmichaels arrived via limousine. The house was large but paled in comparison to both the Carmichael and Wayne Manors. Elegantly walking in, Regan didn't anticipate the party to be so boring. Usually there were other kids her age but none at this 'party.' Upon arrival, Mr. Earle pulled her parents away thus leaving her alone in the middle of the large room. Desperately trying to find something to do, she eyed the bar and decided to order a virgin margarita.**_

_**Walking in a nonchalant speed, Regan crossed the room with grace. She ordered and leaned against the bar so she'd be able to survey the stuffy social gathering. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a boy her age ordering the same thing. The tender tapped her on the shoulder, "Ah miss, your drink." Smiling she stated, "Thanks, put it on my parents tab."**_

_**"Last name, miss?"**_

_**"Carmichael." He nodded and returned to making the other orders.**_

_**"So are you Mercedes or Regan?" the boy asked smoothly. He was dressed in an Armani suit with Valentino shoes.**_

_**"Regan." She replied monotone.**_

_**"Thought so. Mercedes usually basks in the limelight." At the mention of her sister, Regan furrowed her brow. The boy eyed her look of discontentment and added, "And she bores me to death." Regan's frown turned to a broad smile followed by a quiet giggle. Attempting to change the subject, she questioned animatedly, "Are all of Mr. Earle's parties this boring?"**_

_**He laughed a little bit, "Unfortunately, yes, and I have to go to every single one." His tone was a mix of bitterness and pride. "Well, I'll make a point of making Mercedes come to Mr. Earle's parties." He was surprised at her assertion.**_

_**"Then I'd be bored. Who would I talk to? No one here is remotely interesting." His cocky demeanor made her sarcasm come out. "Awww, I'm touched." She faked an enamored look, and added, "By the way, I still don't know your name."**_

_**"I'll tell you after we dance." He retorted slyly.**_

_**"Dance?" she questioned quietly. **_

_**"Yeah, that's why the band's here. Come on, it may be fun." He replied as he grabbed her drink out her hand, set it down, and led her to the floor. She was shy, and he was enjoying every minute of pulling her out of her element. The music flow abruptly changed to a waltz. He placed his hand upon her hip and clasped her free hand. **_

_**Attempting to make the dancing seem friendly, he questioned, "So what are your plans after high school?"**_

_**She thought about it, "This may sound weird, but law enforcement has always interested me. Money isn't my main priority. This," she said looking herself up and down, "isn't who I am."**_

_**"Policewoman instead of an heiress? That's original. Do you know what area?" He answered as he dipped her. **_

_**"Well either narcotics or special victims."**_

_**"Sounds adventurous. My future is going to be boring." He said giving her a faint smile. **_

_**"How so? What's your plan?" she asked as she studied his brown eyes. "Well, when I become old enough, I get to run the family business—I'm destined to be a businessman." **_

_**His downcast expression forced her to say something inspirational, "You can make your own destiny. And that's too bad; you seem too smart to be a stuffy businessman."**_

_**His brown eyes sparkled at her, "Thanks." **_

_**The music ended. "Thanks for the dance?" she asked searching for a name. Before he could respond, an older gentleman beckoned him as, "Master Wayne, it's time to go." Regan mouthed goodbye and he nodded.**_

_**

* * *

**_

That was the last time she saw him.

Snapping back to reality, Regan saw the airport in the distance. "Thanks for the ride, Jillian." Her friend smiled softly. "I'm going to miss my best detective, but Rachel Dawes can't wait to meet you. Since you were my best friend first, she can only be your second best friend. Rae, please call me when you get there."

"Sure, Jil. Oh, and don't worry. Rachel will never replace you."

Jillian returned her focus to the road.

Minutes later, Regan found herself saying the final goodbye and entering Dulles. She checked her bags, and spoke to security concerning her firearm. Finally making her way to the gate, she spoke to the attendant about the current status of whether or not there would be a delay, and made her final check in. She sat down and patiently waited for the flight. No one was around, and Regan openly welcomed the loneliness as she commonly did after work. Speaking of work, she could hardly fathom a way to tackle Gotham's dealers and save the department from utter failure.

Eventually a few businessmen gathered in the gate. "Flight 213 boarding first class." Regan had refused to pay extra for a little foot room on the red eye. _'Spoiled brats.'_ She thought as she watched them walk down the corridor. Next, Regan boarded the plane with a few late people straggling behind her.

Once on the plane, Regan began to read Gotham's newspaper that the flight attendant freely distributed. The front-page article caught her eye:

**BATMAN TAKES DOWN CRIME RING**

Batman? Regan had never heard that name before. As she read on, a smile formed on her face. She wouldn't be alone in this city-wide fight.

Changing gears, she read the entire business section. Regan made mental notes on every fact. She knew that she had to show her father that she could do both—business and police work. Regan had worked double shifts with the DCPD in preparation/anticipation of working in the business world during the day and fight the war on drugs at night. She sighed heavily and closed her eyes knowing that her life would be hectic.

The two-hour flight went by quickly, and when she stepped off the plane, she was instantly bombarded with a bone-crushing hug by Jena Fox. "O my God, Regan! It's so good to see you. Dad would've come but there was some gala he had to attend."

"It's fine. How are things?" Regan asked her long time friend. Their fathers had been friends long before the two were even born. "Umm, my modeling career is thriving, which is good. Dad's back on the board at Wayne Enterprises and your sister's in rehab. I think your parents will be excited to see you."

"Thanks for the quick update. Let's find my bag and get out of here." Regan analyzed her best friend: long ebony hair riddled with highlights of dark brown; blue eyed contacts replaced her brown covered with glasses; her figure had changed dramatically, from a size 5 to a size 0. Regan prayed that Jena wasn't taking drastic measures to remain thin.

After grabbing her heavy luggage, they hailed the valet who brought around a brand new silver Land Rover. "Nice ride," Regan complimented.

"Thanks, I bought it after my first major campaign ad for DKNY."

"Cool."

"How was D.C.?" her friend questioned as she tipped the valet and pulled away.

"Well, it was a nice breath of fresh air, Jen. I earned my BA in forensics and pulled a minor in business. Doing my own thing without Mommy and Daddy was nice." Regan returned smiling. "Tell me, how bad is Gotham?"

"Not great. You heard about the terrorist attack on the Narrows that happened about a year and half go and the psycho Joker's attack on the city about nine months, right? Well, that's still a mess. Batman's helping, but it's only halted the crime rate from rising."

"Wonderful. How's the drug war?"

"Drugs still run ramped even if Falcone is behind bars—there's always someone new. Oh, let's stop talking about this." Her friend replied airily. Regan had been gone a long time. Getting used to the apathy of rich people would take awhile. "So Jena, you said your modeling career was doing well, what other—"

Her friend cut her off, "DKNY, Juicy, Ed Hardy, and Lancôme, and of course I modeled for Ralph Lauren too."

"That's awesome, Jen." Regan returned with a fake smile.

"Know what, Rae?" Jena asked raising an eyebrow.

"No, what?" Regan replied less enthusiastic.

"Tomorrow's Saturday, we should go shopping—like we used to."

"I have to work tomorrow Jena. How about Sunday?"

The model contemplated for a moment, "Maybe, I'll have to check my schedule."

Regan's mind flashed to the paparazzi. "Who knows I'm back?"

"Just my father and I. Don't worry, none of the sharks know."

"Thank God." Her friend laughed heartedly at this. "So you'll stay at my place till you find your own apartment?"

"If that's okay—"

"Oh, God, yes. Girl you should know better." Regan nodded and turned her attention to the city. It was rotting. Regan mentally whined and settled into the leather seat.

Jena could see how tired her friend was, "Rae, I'm going to drop you off, then go meet up with my agent."

The detective remained silent. _'At this hour?'_

After passing by Wayne Tower, Jena pulled in front of Carmichael Luxury Apartments. "Okay, I'm in apartment 15, here's your key, tell the doorman who you are."

Regan pocketed the key, grabbed her bags, and flashed her badge to get into the building. She wasn't ready to meet her old life. _'Tomorrow maybe.'_

She entered the lavish flat and set her things in the room she assumed was for guests. Regan unpacked what she needed for work. She quickly set her cell phones alarm and fell asleep on top of the comforter.

An hour later, she was awoken by people laughing loudly. Regan wiped the sleep from her eyes, fixed her hair, and left the room. Jena yelled loudly, "Rae, meet Don Fredricks. His dad works with my dad." Jena was clearly drunk, and Donnie boy looked like he wanted to take advantage of that.

"Nice to meet you." She threw his way and she turned to Jena, "Look, you have that thing early tomorrow morning."

"I do?" she slurred.

"That's what you said when you picked me up. You have to leave in like 2 hours, and I think you should get some rest. Sorry Don."

Her brilliance at lying was showing. Don shot her a glare and left the flat. Regan led Jena to her bed, where the model quickly fell asleep. The detective placed two aspirin along with a water bottle on the nightstand and groggily returned to her room.

After two hours of sleep, Regan awoke and did her daily routine of 100 sit-ups and 50 push-ups. She headed for the shower where she found solace. Nobody could bother her. The warm water felt good, it washed away the dreariness that had taken up residence in her mind. Stepping out of the shower, she blow -dried her hair and braided it. She applied light make-up. Then she dressed herself in a pair of black jeans complemented by a black elbow sleeve ribbed tunic. Her shoes were black track tennis for comfort. Remembering how cold Gotham was during the fall, she pulled a charcoal gray hooded wool pea coat from her luggage. Finally, she placed her gun holster on her hip and placed her badge in her right pocket. Before leaving the apartment, she gave one final check on Jena who was out cold. Grabbing her cell and key, she left the flat.

Regan coasted by Wayne Tower, and her mind flashed to his eyes. She shook her head at the thought of being with Bruce Wayne. As she began to hail a taxi, she felt someone staring at her. Turning, she eyed Lucius Fox smirking. "Mr. Fox." Regan greeted warmly as he approached.

"Detective," He returned and embraced her, "It's been a long time. How was D.C.?"

"Rewarding, but I've returned to Gotham to help the Narc Unit. Jena said you were back on the board. Congratulations."

"Thank you. I've got a lot to tend too. Perhaps dinner sometime?" he returned apologetically.

"Sure. I'll call you. It's good to see you, Mr. Fox."

Regan returned to the curb and hailed a cab. Climbing into the dirt covered taxi, she ordered, "Gotham Police Department."

"Right away miss." The drive lasted exactly 12 minutes, and by her standards that was long. She paid the driver and entered the dull HQ.

Checking in was a breeze and she already felt at home. Regan found the narcotic unit completely deserted and a mess. She was supposed to lead a unit like this? None of the detectives would be coming in today, so she set to work filing cases and properly labeling and detailing everything. As her mother would say, _'Rae, your OCD is showing.'_

"Excuse me, Miss. You're not allowed to see that." She turned to see a man in his forties with glasses and mustache holding a cup of steaming coffee. She contemplated whether to rip a new one. _'Nah.'_

Regan smiled sweetly, "Commissioner Gordon," she addressed via his name tag, "I'm the new lead detective that's been given the role of a captain. I was told that I could run the unit the way I want. The way I do things is organized, clean, and precise."

He instantly apologized, "Sorry, detective. Didn't realize it was you, glad to have you. Holler if you need anything."

"Thank you, Commissioner." She responded in a dismissive tone. He took his leave satisfied that the unit was in capable familiarized herself with each detectives file and record of conduct.

Three hours into cleaning, she stumbled upon dozens of leads on drug deals both pick-ups, drop-offs, and gang activity. Judging by their records, no one followed up on them. "These people are inept." She muttered as she finished the second filing cabinet.

Around 9:30 the phone rang, "Narcotics Unit, Detective Carmichael speaking."

"Why don't you sound official." She was hoping for a real call, but he would do.

"Hello to you too, Mr. Fox."

"How does lunch sound to you?"

"Depends on where. I'm not dressed for anything fancy."

"I assumed that, so I decided we could go to Mangoli's. It's upper-class, but casual."

"Alright, so 12:15?"

"Sure. See you then."

She hung up and returned to reading up on the poisoning of the Narrows and the anarchy the Joker provoked. The Joker's mindset intrigued her. His blatant disregard for human life and mind games were taken to a new level that she never dreamed existed. She made a mental file for all the pictures of the escapees from Arkham Asylum and those who were re-captured. _'I'm married to this damn job.'_

_

* * *

_

_Please review. Revised: 6/08/10_


	2. Targeted

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own DC Comics or characters associated with DC Comics. I only own my OCs.

_Author's Note:_ Thank you to those who reviewed: LeleChaos, SerenityMoonlight, Vanafindiel, and Crissana Collins. I want to especially thank Vanafindiel for the extensive review filled with helpful points.

_Sub-Note:_ I want to apologize for the late posting, I posted chapter one the night before I left for a seven day Alaskan cruise. Tonight, I'm posting chapter two, but I will not update till at least Sunday-I'm counseling at a camp for a week.

_Sub, sub-note:_ I enjoy bringing in comic book characters. (Just a small hint)

* * *

Clocking out for the day, Regan left the department. Remembering how close Mangoli's was, she decided to walk. There was no point for her to hail a taxi to ride five blocks that she could easily walk. Regan took in the sights and smells of the business district. She smiled to herself; her sister wouldn't be caught dead walking one block, let alone five blocks. Sibling rivalry was still rearing its ugly head, but why? Why did it matter after so many years?

Twenty minutes later, she found herself in front of Mangoli's, and she was three minutes late. She entered the eatery and surveyed Mr. Fox sitting at a booth with another man. Regan cautiously sauntered over to the two. Mr. Fox greeted her formally, "Detective."

"Mr. Fox." She acknowledged smoothly. He let her slip in beside him. "Detective, Mr. Wayne invited himself to our lunch. I hope that's alright."

"Yeah, it's fine." She flashed the businessman a smile.

"Lucius, I didn't invite myself. I recall you invited me so it wouldn't be awkward." Regan laughed at the playboy's remark. Fox smirked and turned to address her, "How's the first day?"

She sighed. She didn't care that Wayne heard her open a can of irritation. "The unit is pathetic. No wonder they put me in charge." She paused and shook her head in disbelief. "I bet Batman's responsible for all the arrests. These detectives, if I can call them that, don't do crap. There's no filing, no order, no nothing." Bruce's ears had perked up at the mention of Batman. He was amused at her fiery passion to fix the unit and slightly perplexed. He couldn't place it, but he'd met her before.

Fox picked up on Bruce's infatuation with the woman. "Sounds like it's a good thing you're there to fix it."

"Don't puff me up yet. The only thing I've done is file papers."

Fox nodded, "Are you going to visit your parents, or keep them guessing?"

"I plan on calling them tonight and visiting tomorrow."

"And your sister?"

"She can rot in rehab."

"That's a bit harsh." Mr. Fox scolded while giving a smirk to Bruce. "No, it's not. She messed her own life up. Not my problem. She belongs in rehab. My parents don't deserve to have their names drug through the mud."

Then it clicked. Regan Carmichael. She'd left when she was 18. No one knew where, maybe Bruce subconsciously copied her.

"Tell me Regan, how do you feel now that you've achieved your dream?" He charmed. Her surprised look made him smile. His chocolate eyes held hers.

"I should be asking you the same thing, Bruce. How's the stuffy businessman fitting you?"

"Well." He replied seriously. She knew better. As if on cue, they both laughed. He motioned for the waiter to take their order.

After ordering a large deep -dish Gotham style pizza, Mr. Fox turned to business. "Bruce, you mentioned that Luthor was trying to deal with Carmichael. If Luthor gets what he wants, how bad?"

Bruce's face-hardened, "Bad. I need to convince Carmichael that dealing with Luthor isn't wise."

Regan knew she could persuade her father to Bruce's side. "I'll convince him tomorrow."

The duo stared at her, and both seemed satisfied. With a smirk plastered on her face, she asked, "Bruce, do you still attend those overly boring parties?"

He ran his hand through his auburn hair, "Of course, because I throw them."

She grinned. Mr. Fox slyly added, "Aren't you having one tonight?"

Bruce walked right into the older man's trap. "Unfortunately."

He glanced at Regan again. This glance showed her as the beautiful woman she was, her eyes had changed to green during their banter. "Regan, you can come if you'd like. Your parents will be there." His casual demeanor threw her off guard. She wasn't sure he wanted her there. Should she take a chance? _'Use an excuse. I hate those parties.'_

"I would love to go, but I'm not on my parents account. All of us know how lousy a cop's salary is."

Lucius wasn't going to let this opportunity to pass by. "I'll take you shopping, once you're back to your unlimited cash flow, you can repay me."

"Alright." She conceded.

Bruce held in his satisfaction and nodded stoically. Lunch arrived, and the trio was too busy eating to talk.

After the bill was brought, Bruce pulled his wallet out to pay. Lucius handed him $20.00, and Regan pulled $20.00 and offered it. Bruce shook his head, "It's nothing, Regan."

She didn't challenge him, which was surprising. "Mr. Fox, Miss Carmichael. I will see you both later."

Mr. Wayne left the eatery casually and drove away in his new silver Aston Martin DB9.

"So what's with you bringing Wayne?" she asked eyeing her second father.

"Nothing." He replied smirking. "Let's get going. We need to get your feet & hands, then a dress, and finally, hair and make-up."

Regan smirked, "You planned this."

Shaking his head in defiance, he led her to his BMW 1 series coupe. They climbed in and set off to accomplish Mr. Fox's plan.

Driving down the streets of the fashion district brought back memories of her past. She quickly pushed those thoughts away.

He drove to a well-known salon and dragged her in. Regan received a manicure, a pedicure, and an assortment of other painful procedures.

They left the salon and walked about the designer stores. Remembering how Dior usually looked good on her, she ventured in. She eyed a long sage silk satin chiffon dress with canaille and charms embroidered into the neckline, and a high front vent. When she came out of the dressing room, she wowed Mr. Fox. "That's perfect."

_'Bruce is going to love it.'_ He thought. Then she picked a pair of Dior beige patent leather sling back 2.5 inch heels. Once he paid, they headed back to the salon.

After five hours of preparing, Regan looked nothing like a cop. Her make-up was heavy by her standards, but she took it in stride. Her hair was pulled into a series of complicated braids and such that it hit a crest, then cascaded down in elegant curls. She knew she needed to get back to the apartment to dress and practice fake smiling.

Mr. Fox dropped her off, and stated, "I'll be back in 20 minutes. I have to grab my suit from Marc Jacobs." She nodded and hurried into the apartment where she found Jena with a bad hangover. The model stared at her, "Where are you going?"

"Meeting parents." Was the response and it satisfied the headache ridden model.

Regan quickly changed into her new dress and shoes, and made final touch-ups. She practically ran to the door and smiled at Mr. Fox who understood that his daughter didn't know. "You look wonderful in your suit!" she praised as they re-entered the running car.

The duo hated being late; however, a large traffic collision hindered their punctuality. They sat in traffic for over an hour before finally pulling into the luscious driveway of Wayne Manor. He opened her door, and she majestically climbed out. The duo entered the opulent manor to find the party had gone on without them. Mr. Fox left her side, so she could enter alone. She stood at the beginning of the entrance waiting for a sign. Nothing. She gulped and waltzed in. Bruce happened to look up as she entered. His eyes widened in surprise. Regan felt the stares of the partygoers and froze up for but a moment. Shaking them off, she headed for Bruce. "Hello, Bruce." She offered with subtle smile attempting to hold in a blush caused by his stare.

"Regan, you look wonderful."

"That's an understatement, Mr. Wayne." Lucius Fox interjected.

"Fine. How about, you look magnificent?"

"Thanks." She glanced at both. Bruce grabbed her by the hand and led her to her parents. Her father's hair had turned from brown with patches of grey to pure grey; however, his kind eyes still retained their muster. "Mr. Carmichael, this is Regan Carmichael. I believe you two have met?" Her father caught his humor, "I believe so."

Bruce squeezed her hand before letting go.

"Hi, Dad." She forced. She expected a glare and a long lecture, but it didn't come. Her father embraced her saying, "Thank God you're back. I was beginning to wonder where my heir went. "

She smiled broadly, "Right here, Dad."

"Knowing you, you went away for school. May I inquire as to what you studied?"

"I have a degree majoring in forensics, but I minored in business."

"That's my girl, original yet thoughtful."

"Where's Mom?"

"Around here somewhere. Where have you been?"

"D.C." she replied shortly.

"Should I dare to ask what you were doing in D.C.?"

She lightly hit him on the arm, "Dad, of course you should ask, but to save your energy; I'll just tell you. I joined the DEA but changed to the narcotic unit for the DCPD, then transferred here yesterday to take the position as lead detective for Gotham PDs narcotics unit." She finished her quick overview with a broad smile, which mirrored her father's expression.

Hoping to move attention away from herself, she questioned, "Dad, can I offer you some advice on the company you keep?"

"Sure darling."

"Dad, I wouldn't do any business with Lex Luthor. He's bad news."

"Fine, then who do you suggest?" Her father asked raising an eyebrow.

"Wayne Enterprises. Wayne pulls weight in almost every country, while Luthor pulls weight only in the North American continent. Moreover, Wayne has sectors for almost every aspect of industry. I suggest we go with the more experienced, stable company. Wayne runs a strict, honest company." Mr. Carmichael was impressed with his daughter's thoughtful answer.

"Fine, but I'm putting you in charge of our dealings with Wayne Enterprises. You start Monday. Oh, and don't worry, your hours will be flexible, since you already have an important job."

Slightly in shock, Regan only nodded in acceptance, which earned her another hug from her father.

Bruce stood close enough to hear her conversation. DEA? Narcotics? Business with Wayne Enterprises? He shoved his thoughts to the back of his mind and continued his boring conversation with Fredrick's wife.

Regan could see Bruce's egotistical bored expression and decided to save him. The band struck a waltz number. He turned to see her heading towards him. "Dance?" he asked in a low voice causing a shiver to run down her spine.

"Sure." She returned confidently.

As they danced, his eyes poured over her. His gaze made her slightly nervous. Attempting to distract him, Regan began to talk about business. "I talk to Dad about Lex."

"Oh, and did you persuade him?" he questioned comfortably while still maintaining his look. She was temporarily lost in the notion that he wasn't a boy anymore. He'd grown since they danced last, and he was considerably stronger. "I convinced him to do business solely with Wayne Enterprises, and I gained myself a second job."

"Oh?" he acknowledged as his hand slid down from her waist to her hip. She gulped. "Yeah, I'm in charge of business between the two companies." _'Keep thinking business Regan.'_

"Meaning, we'll be seeing a lot of each other in the coming weeks." He affirmed as he pulled her closer.

* * *

_The couple had an audience._

"Mr. Fox, I hope Mr. Wayne has honorable intentions with my daughter."

"Mr. Carmichael, Bruce would never pursue a one night stand with Miss Carmichael. I planned their meeting tonight. Bruce doesn't know it yet, but he's dancing with his future wife."

The older businessman jumped back in astonishment. "How do you know?"

"Look at his eyes; he only got that look when he was with Rachel. Since she's moved on, I'm helping him move on."

Mrs. Carmichael laughed, "Imagine the possibilities if they married. It would be more than a monopoly."

Mr. Fox smiled, "I give it a week. In the meantime, I have to figure out a way for my daughter to kick Regan out of the apartment, and you have to somehow lie and say that Mercedes is back or that you're away on business. That way Bruce would feel obligated to invite her to stay."

"You've been at this awhile, haven't you?"

"Since they danced when they were sixteen."

* * *

Bruce and Regan finished their dance, and chatted lightly about things. "I'm having a charity ball next week for The Martha Wayne Foundation."

"Is that an invitation?" she asked as he took a swig of champagne.

"If you would like to come?" He countered with a question.

"Will the Foxes' be there?"

"Why does that matter?"

"Why won't you answer?" She sighed.

"Because I like watching think." He replied amused.

She bit her lip in response. Regan's mind was racing with euphoria. Until it vanished when Mr. Fox stepped forward with her cell phone, "Phone call, Regan."

She clutched the phone and answered, "Hello?"

_"Detective Carmichael. We have a situation in the Narrows. None of the other detectives are picking up."_

Regan glanced at Bruce with a look of disappointment. "I'll be right in."

She clearly faked a smile. "There's a situation in the Narrows, and I'm needed. Bruce could you call me a cab?"

"Sure." His disappointment could only be seen in his eyes, but concern was strewn across his face. Shifting his weight, he sighed heavily as he told Alfred to make the call.

Within minutes, the cab had arrived and Regan was gone.

She rushed to the apartment, changed, grabbed her gun, cuffs, and badge; and asked to be taken to the Narrows. The cabbie nodded slowly and drove to the desolate district. She paid and climbed out to see a number of cop cars parked.

_Meanwhile, Bruce excused himself from the party claiming he had an important business call. Hastily, he changed into his suit._

_He drove his new tumbler to the Narrows and hid it in a dark alley. Swinging his way to the top of the dilapidated building, he watched the cops below._

Regan took control of the situation, "Fill me in." She ordered, her laid-back attitude gone.

The police officer gulped, "A shooting over a drug deal gone wrong."

"Then this is homicides deal, not mine." _'This guy is an imbecile.'_

"When I said the detectives weren't picking up, I meant all of them."

"That's impossible." She muttered as she entered the crime scene. Her trained eye caught a number of clues telling her that this was staged. "Patrolman, write down everything I say." He gave her a confused look but complied.

"Window broken from the inside by a blunt object. Bodies dragged to their current locations indicating crime scene tampering or staging. Guns left at scene, meaning no registration or prints, but dust anyways. A number of boot prints." She crouched. "The men wore shoes that were too big for them, so rough estimate of suspect's size is an 11 to 12. One print is a woman's, size eight maybe. Moreover, this is the wrong location for a deal. Smart dealers pick places that they can bail out from. This building has one entrance and exit. Nope, in my opinion, this was staged to hide a different crime." She continued to walk carefully around the room, and then she noticed an indentation on the floor. "Trap door. Flashlight & crow bar please."

He handed her the requested items, and she easily opened the door. She flashed the light into the darkness reflecting eyes. Realizing they were human, specifically women, she hastily stated, "Come on out ladies. We're the police." One by one, several young women dressed as gardeners climbed out of the shaft. Batman watched from the outside. His mind raced for any chatter about missing women, but he could remember nothing. Regan ventured down into the basement. Finding the light switch, she turned on the lights that revealed hundreds of marijuana plants and a kitchen area. She climbed out. "Get HAZMAT and the crime lab to do a sweep down there. There's gotta be a couple hundred grand's worth of drugs." She left the building and side stepped into the alley. Regan took a breath of air and turned to see the Dark Knight leaning against the wall.

"Thanks for having my back, and I don't believe a damn thing about you being a criminal." She stated as she left him in the alley to return to take the statements of the women, file paper work, and set to work on finding the dealer. Her mind processed everything. _'Why would someone reveal the drug operation using murder? To what purpose?'_

As Regan was about to head back to the precinct, something in her gut told her the bodies weren't necessarily a stage. She re-entered the crime scene alone. HAZMAT was securing the basement, and the patrolmen were securing the perimeter. She knelt down by the bodies and eyed each body. All seemed legit, except for one. The outfit, which was a suit, was too big for him and the bloodstain was much older than the rest. Before she could react, the man pulled a knife. Regan took a step back and observed him. His pupils were a pinpoint, and his breathing was shallow. _'Heroin.'_

"So what's your plan? After you knife me?" She asked in a chiding tone.

He didn't answer. She pushed, "There's no way you'll escape. Put the knife down and we can talk over donuts."

His eyes narrowed as he lunged and she easily dodged. Batman had crept into the rafters and viewed the altercation. Regan knew she couldn't reason with him. In a swift motion, she pulled her gun and yelled in a dark voice, "Drop the knife, and I won't shoot you. Get down on your knees now."

The man laughed at her, "She said you were tough, but I don't think she realized that you were smart enough to out me." She? Who was he talking about? Regan's mind shifted back to the knife in his hand. She didn't want to shoot him. Suddenly, he threw the knife, which hit her square in the shoulder. The man's face displayed blatant disappointment for not hitting her in the heart. Regan didn't waver. However, before she could shoot him, the suspect was pulled by a huge black object into the rafters. Regan fell to her knees and called for a medic. No one came. "What the hell? Where is everyone?"

"Their gone." A raspy voice answered her from the darkness.

"Why?"

"Probably paid off. You were a target."

"It's my first day, how?"

"They know you're a good cop."

She didn't answer him. The knife was laced with something, and she felt herself losing control. "Bat—" She gasped before she collapsed. He jumped down to check her pulse, which was weak. He gently picked her up and rushed her to the tumbler. He laid her gently in the passenger seat and telephoned Alfred.

"Alfred, I've got Detective Carmichael with me. She's been stabbed, and the knife appears to be poisoned."

"Very Well Sir. I'll prepare for your arrival."

Batman glanced at the detective. Why didn't she shoot him? _'She didn't want to kill him.'_ He reasoned as he sped through Gotham's city streets.

* * *

_Another Author's Note:_ I realize how cliché it is to have her be drugged. I am in no way referencing the situation in Batman Begins.

**_Please review, however, I do not wish to receive flames as reviews. Please review responsibly. _**_Revised: 6/08/10_


	3. Can I Get A New Everything?

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own DC Comics or characters associated with DC Comics. I only own my OCs.

_Thanks to those who reviewed_: SerenityMoonlight and Batmanlover. Your reviews are much appreciated.

_Author's Note:_ Here's Chapter Three...It's a bit shorter than the previous two, my bad. :) Enjoy!

* * *

After pulling into the cave, Batman speedily picked her up and placed her on the table that he commonly lay on to have Alfred bandage him.

Alfred emerged from the shadows and assisted him. Alfred pulled the knife out of her shoulder and applied pressure. "Master Wayne, perhaps you could run a test on the bloody dagger? I'll sew her wound."

The Dark Knight nodded as he swabbed the knife and placed the sample in a sequencer that he recently had acquired from the Applied Science Sector.

As the sequencer beeped, Batman was relieved to see the results. "The knife was laced with a form of GHB. She'll be alright in that regard. We have to be careful that she doesn't choke on her own vomit."

Bruce removed the cowl for but a moment, until he saw her convulse. He hastily treated her with lorazepam, which ended the convulsions. Bruce changed out of his suit and carefully carried her upstairs.

He laid her down in a guest bedroom and ordered Alfred to watch her.

Bruce returned to the cave to further inspect the knife. It was common; no clues or leads to who was behind the assault.

He sighed and returned to his friend's bedside. "Alfred, when she wakes up. You have to agree with me that Batman brought her here."

"Master Bruce, why would he bring her here?"

"Because my name was the last thing she muttered."

"That's a suffice reason." The butler agreed.

* * *

Regan awoke to the sun shining on her face. She was in a foreign bed and room. When she attempted to move, a piercing shot of pain surged through her body, specifically her shoulder.

"Where am I?" she murmured painfully.

"Wayne Manor, Detective." A familiar voice answered. Regan turned to see Alfred smiling.

"How did I get here?" she asked thoroughly confused.

"Batman brought you here." Bruce answered as he entered the room. Regan thought that maybe he was waiting on cue to answer that particular question but quickly shoved that idea aside for later musing. Bruce's voice knocked her back to the present, "He said you cried out my name when you collapsed."

She attempted to recall the night's events but found them to be a bit disheveled and foggy. Regan accepted Bruce's answer, because nothing made sense anymore. Bruce's eyes gazed at her pale face. His anger burned deep in his chest. He'd find out who did this. His conscience warned him that revenge wasn't the answer, and he knew this to be true.

"I should call someone and get out of your hair. I don't want to be a burden."

Bruce ran his hand through his hair as he handed her his cell phone. She dialed her parents' number.

"Hey Renee, Mom and Dad home? It's Regan by the way."

"What do you mean they aren't available?" Didn't she just speak with her father last night? What was so important to them that they couldn't be bothered? _Mercedes._

"Fine." She closed her eyes tight attempting to rid herself of the frustration that was growing. Luckily, she had an option left, Jena.

"Jena it's—" Bruce watched her facial expression change.

"What do you mean I'm not welcomed? What did I do?"

"Oh really? Sorry that I went without you. Spur of the moment." Bruce could faintly make out a high pitched voice screaming into the receiver.

"You blame me for you missing your job? I reminded you! You drunk. Fine, um, just…I'll send someone to pick my luggage up."

She closed the cell phone and shakily handed it back to him.

"No luck?" he asked gently. Tears welled up, but they didn't come.

"Bruce, I'll stay in a hotel."

Alfred knew better, "No Miss. You're not well enough to be by yourself. We're happy to have you."

Bruce glanced over at Alfred with a light perturbed expression.

"Is that okay? I don't want to—" Regan felt like she was imposing. This was Bruce's house, and it seemed like he was happy living by himself (excluding Alfred of course). Regan doubted he wanted a woman living with him.

"Don't worry about it Rae. I have to make a conference call. Call Alfred if you need anything. I'll be back later."

_'Rae'?_ Since when did he call her by her nickname? How did he know it? _'It's just a coincidence._' She promised herself.

Alfred nodded to Bruce as he left. Clearing her head, Regan wanted to sit up. As she tried to push herself up, Alfred rushed forward to assist her.

"Thank you."

He smiled, "You're quite welcome. Can I get you anything?"

Sarcastically she replied, "New friends, job, and life. You can throw my luggage in there too."

Regan immediately felt ashamed for taking her anger out on the older man. He didn't knife her or leave her to die. "Look Alfred, I'm sorry. It's not your fault that this happened—I'm just frustrated. Bruce wasn't very forthcoming, and ahh."

"It's fine Detective. Given the circumstances I don't think that I'd act any different." The older man replied humbly.

Regan sighed before slowly moving to get up. "I need to get my stuff from Jena Foxes place…"

"I'll retrieve your belongings when I go to the market later this morning."

She settled back in to bed defeated. Feeling groggy, she lied back down and fell into a deep sleep.

Alfred took his leave, and headed to do his errands.

* * *

_Please Review (No flames please). Reviews brighten my day. Revised 6/08/10_


	4. Fuschia

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own DC Comics or characters associated with DC. I only own my OC.

_Author's Note:_ Thanks to those who reviewed: Fairy Skull and Batman Lover...

* * *

_Around five o'clock…._

As Regan opened her eyes, she was greeted by the sound of ruffling papers. Turning her head, she eyed Bruce going through paperwork. "Hey." She offered hoarsely. He glanced at her with a smile tugging at his mouth. Propping herself up, she watched him go through a series of different facial expressions, from perplexed to amused to annoyed to bored to wtf?

Abandoning the idea of watching Bruce, she focused on her shoulder. Regan's shoulder was throbbing. With her left hand, she gently touched her injured shoulder. The pain tripled upon contact causing her to withdraw her hand. Regan refused to cry, especially in front of him. She only allowed her eyes to water and forcefully stifled a painful moan. How was she supposed to do her job like this? She could retire and become a disgustingly boring businesswoman or fight through the pain and catch the dealers. The Dealers. Who could have orchestrated a set-up like that? Where was Batman?

_'I should've shot him.'_ She thought.

Meanwhile, Bruce watched her cringe in pain. He knew she was trying to be strong, but at what cost? Her facial expression showed that she arguing with herself, and Bruce couldn't help but faintly smile.

"Would you like to talk about it?" he asked in a calming tone.

She glanced at him, "I should've shot him."

"Shot who?"

"Who do you think?"

"Batman?" Bruce questioned raising his eyebrows in confusion.

"No! The creepy guy with the knife." She rolled her eyes. This entertained him. Usually he wasn't the one to overturn the apple cart, but Regan's constant animated expressions propelled him to play stupid. She continued, "He was hyped up on heroin, and I don't think I could've lived with myself…"

"Then why even contemplate the idea of killing him?"

"My shoulder hurts like hell. He drugged me and ruined my night."

"Well, I'm sure you can have a better night another time."

"Like at the charity gala?" She asked slyly.

"I suppose." He returned nonchalantly. His apathetic tone made her mouth twitch. He wanted so desperately to laugh at her, but he knew there would be plenty of time for that.

Changing the subject, she bitterly asked, "Did Alfred get my bags okay?"

"As far as I know. He said Miss Fox ranted and raved about how you should be on the streets."

Regan's eyes narrowed, "She's mad at me for not reminding her of her modeling gig. But I did remind her—she was too drunk to listen, and I left for work before she woke up. And then I didn't tell her about your party or anything. I don't feel like I did anything wrong, but now I'm short a good friend." Since when did her lie to the Fredrick's boy become the truth?

"Well, it's not your fault that she has issues…It sounds like you did everything by the book. Don't beat yourself up about it. She'll come around. Models are usually high maintenance."

She snorted, "You would know."

Ignoring her last comment, he stood and sat down on the edge of the bed. He tenderly checked her wound. It was deep but not a through and through.

"I'm going to change the bandage and clean it."

"Okay." How does he know how to do it?

_'He's Bruce Wayne. He does everything.'_ She reminded herself.

Intently watching him, Regan found herself wanting to kiss him. Why? She didn't know. His hands graced her bare shoulder—her shirt had been ripped in order to care for her injury. His hands were rough causing her to slightly twinge.

"Sorry. Paperwork hands."

"No, umm, it's fine." She blushed at him. Bruce gently dabbed her shoulder with alcohol soaked pads. He blew on it increasing her blush. Pulling on the medical tape, Bruce noticed her red complexion. With a smirk, he taped her shoulder. Her eyes never left their target—his eyes. The playboy in him wouldn't have mind flirting with her more, but Batman told him firmly no. _'Regan Carmichael is more than that.'_ _More…_

Bruce reflected on what 'more' meant, until he felt her left hand nudge him.

He looked up at her with a questioning look. Her green eyes answered him with solemn thank you. She shifted to get out of the bed. He lent her a hand and she firmly yet gently grabbed it. Regan rose from the bed slowly and walked toward the hall. Bruce followed suit. "Where are you going? You'll get lost without a guide."

"Then be my guide." She returned smoothly. He took a deep breath to collect himself.

"Down that way is the other guest bedrooms," he motioned to the right.

Thirty minutes later, the tour ended. _'This house is definitely twice the size of Dad's.' _She thought in admiration. The duo found themselves in the foyer.

"Master Wayne, Miss Carmichael, dinner."

"Thanks Alfred." Bruce acknowledged in a fake stern voice.

"Very well, Sir." Alfred returned robotically. Regan could tell Alfred wanted to say more. Both of them acted excessively formal for their personalities.

"You guys don't have to put on a front. Alfred, don't be a stuffy butler. Bruce, please, don't be like my father."

Both men exchanged glances and smirked. "Alright, Miss Carmichael," Alfred replied after several moments of dead silence.

"Please, call me Regan." The older man grinned and headed for the kitchen.

Bruce ushered Regan into the kitchen as well. "We usually eat in the kitchen."

"Cool. I usually eat at the station. This is definitely a treat."

"Get used to it." Bruce whispered in her ear.

"Are you asking me to stay?" She questioned raising an eyebrow.

"Maybe. Do you want to?" He countered.

"Only if you want me to."

"What do I get out of it?" he questioned serpentine.

"The opportunity to do business with my Dad's company," she offered shifting her gaze to his.

"Business doesn't interest me."

"Then what does?" she asked meekly.

"You."

"Really? I guess we'll have to get to know each other, which means I'm staying."

"Good." He purred before Alfred interrupted their flirting.

"Dinner is getting cold." Both reddened and left their conversation.

* * *

_(After Dinner)_

"And that's how Master Bruce broke his arm."

"Playing hide and seek? Bruce you should've been more careful. Sounds like you gave Alfred quite a scare."

"Well, that was my grand plan all along—scaring Alfred."

Regan laughed, and the two men soon joined.

"Ever broke anything?" Bruce quizzed.

"Luckily no. No gunshots either. This is my first stabbing. I've tried to be careful."

"Will you be going to work tomorrow?" Bruce asked in a concerned voice.

"For the morning, I'll be at the office till noon. From noon to five, I'll be at the station ordering people around till five—"

"Then I'll pick you up and take you to dinner." Bruce finished.

"Sure. Do I have to dress up?"

"Umm, business wear required."

"Is this for business?" she asked to fish for information.

"Possibly." He answered shortly.

"So, I'm your date to this business dinner?"

"Only if you want to be," he returned offhandedly.

"Then yes."

He smiled in a cocky manner. She copied him while asking, "May I inquire to what the dress code is?"

"You asked already. Business."

"I get that it's business. I want to know what you want me to wear."

"Something black, tight, and short." He replied in a devious tone.

She blushed a deep rose red but shot back, "Umm, let me get this straight. Baggy, long, and fuchsia?"

"Exactly."

* * *

_Please review (it motivates me to update...no flames please)_


	5. I'm Just Living With Him

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own DC Comics or characters associated with DC. I only own my OC.

_Author's Note:_ A special thanks to those who reviewed: Catchild26, Elizabeth S. Black, and Fairy Skull.

* * *

Groggily awaking from her slumber, Regan stretched and climbed out of her massive bed. Her feet hit the soft burgundy carpet with a thud, and she headed straight toward the bathroom. It was 5:30, and she knew that she had a lot to accomplish in one day; primarily, it was to go shopping for clothes. She couldn't show up at the office in jeans and long sleeve tank from Target, at least not anymore. Target was yesterday. And truth be told, Regan was excited for shopping. Her life was changing. So why not follow its lead?

To her knowledge, she had only a few articles of clothing worth something and decided to utilize them—she dressed herself in a Bebe Italian pinstripe linen cuffed pant accompanied by a black puff sleeve vested sweater (also from Bebe) and black pumps. Regan pulled her mahogany hair into a high ponytail and applied light make-up. Grabbing her badge and gun, she noiselessly exited the room. Praying to God that Alfred was still asleep, she crept downstairs to the kitchen.

Peering into the lavish kitchen, Regan did a victory dance, because no one was around. No people equals freedom.

Regan didn't really do the whole breakfast bit, but she began to force down a bowl of Cheerios and a glass of OJ. A sharp breath sounded from behind her. She quickly turned to see Alfred retreating. Rolling her eyes, she invited, "Alfred join me."

He grinned, "If you insist." He took a seat across from her.

"Miss Carmichael, may I inquire on how you plan to get to work?"

"Cab." Regan returned with a shrug.

"I'm sure Master Bruce wouldn't mind if you borrowed the Beamer for a day or two."

"Alfred, that's very generous of you, but I'm already living with him. I'm not going to use his cars too. If it makes you feel better, I'll call a car service."

"Nonsense. He'd want you to take the car."

"But I don't want to take the car." She said all too quickly.

"Then what do you want?" he asked.

"Him." She put her hand over her mouth and blushed furiously. She hastily gathered her dishes and turned her back to the old man.

Her mind registered that the old butler chuckled, "Thought so."

Glaring as she washed her dishes, Regan attempted to formulate a suffice excuse for her compulsive behavior. "Alfred."

"Yes Miss?"

"Let me clarify." She chose each word very carefully.

"No clarification needed." He replied coyly.

"No, it's needed. I meant to say that I wanted him to tell me that I could use one of his many cars."

His face didn't fall as she had expected it to; in fact, it brightened.

"So I'll call a car service." Regan finished authoritatively.

"No, you won't." Regan was about to kill Alfred when she realized that Alfred didn't have that deep of a voice. Blushing, she swiveled to see Bruce standing in the doorway. Her eyes appraised him: hair messy, gray tank that hugged his muscled chest, and long pajama pants—disgustingly attractive.

"How long have you been standing there?" she questioned alarmed.

"About a minute, I heard Alfred giving my cars away, and something about you not using my cars without my permission." He answered coyly.

Regan fought hard not to smile, but the smile eventually won. _'Darn.'_

He smiled slyly, "You can use the Beamer Regan. I trust that you're capable of driving."

"Of course I can drive. And thank you."

He smiled a million dollar smile and retorted, "Not a problem, but remember I'm picking you up at five."

"How could I forget?" Regan tossed back which caused him to redden.

Alfred interjected, "You best be on your way. Don't want to be late."

"Uh, yeah. Can I have the keys or—?"

Bruce cut her off, "Alfred will show you."

"Bye Bruce. Go back to bed, you look exhausted."

"Yes Mom." He laughed. "Bye Rae," he added as she exited the room.

Regan followed Alfred to the massive car garage.

Upon reaching the opulent garage, Regan was overwhelmed. His collection was the most extensive that she had ever seen, from the Ferrari 599 GTB Fiorano to the Lamborghini Gallardo & Reventon to the not released BMW CS Concept— to cars from the 30s to the present. She stopped trailing behind Alfred and gazed in awe. How could one person own so many cars? She remembered the rumors that flew around just before she left— about how Wayne spent more on cars then on charity. Her father claimed that it was simply untrue. Had he seen this? Every car had a designated place and was completely clean. Each was in its prime condition. "Oh my God."

"Beautiful aren't they?" The voice jolted her out of her musing/ogling. Alfred was smiling that smile again.

"Yeah, I knew Bruce had a collection. I just didn't realize that it was this magnificent."

"Yes. Well, Master Bruce needed a hobby, so I suggested either collecting cars or polo. He chose the cars."

"It's beautiful. This garage is new, right?"

"Actually, the entire mansion is new." His smile faded slightly.

"Really, what happened?" Regan was curious now.

"It burned down about one and half years ago. Master Bruce demanded to have it rebuilt and re-furnished just the way it was. Obviously, he wanted it done in about eight months, and the construction company finished it just on time."

"How did the fire start? If you don't mind me asking..."

"That's a long story for another time. Do you mind driving the Mercedes-Benz CL600 instead?"

"Not at all." Regan replied with a faint smile.

Alfred approached a bullet -proof glass case that held all the keys to the cars. He looked back at Regan to make sure she couldn't see and punched in a code. The case clicked open, and Alfred easily found the appropriate key. Tossing the key to Regan he stated, "Pull out carefully, and follow the signs to the exit. Okay?"

"Sure." Regan responded. Excitedly she sprinted to her car, climbed in, and started it. The CL600 purred leisurely as she hesitantly pulled out of the garage. She knew Bruce was somewhere watching her leave.

After successfully leaving the mansion grounds, Regan drove unhurried toward Carmichael Industries. Before entering the city limits, her cell phone rang.

"Detective Carmichael." She answered automatically.

_"Hey babe! How's Gotham?"_ shouted her best friend Jillian Westwood.

"Umm, it's pretty good. You'll never guess who I'm living with."

_"It's him, isn't it? Oh my God! Did you guys sleep together yet?" _

"No, of course not. But yes, we're living together. I'm actually driving one of his cars right now, and we have dinner plans tonight."

_"Holy crap, Regan. When I told you to get laid, I didn't think you'd be on your way so soon."_

"Jillian, there will be no hooking up of that nature."

_"Party-pooper."_

"Thorn in my side."

_"Touché." _

"Listen, I have to go to work. I'll call you when I get a chance, Jill."

_"Wait, I just wanted to tell you that you're going to be a proud Aunt."_

"Oh my God! Congratulations, Jillian! As soon as I finish this case, I'm coming to visit."

_"Bye, workaholic."_

"Bye, preggo."

_Click._

The Carmichael Industries building towered in the Gotham's downtown skyline but was nothing compared to Wayne Tower located in the center of the city.

After Regan had driven to the adjoining parking garage and parked the car, she confidently walked into a new yet familiar world. Once she entered, Regan was barraged with people tending to her. She searched through them to see one of her Dad's associates, Mr. Masen, by the elevators. He towered over the crowd. She immediately noticed that his once reddish-brown hair had faded to gray, and he noticeably gained weight.

"Mr. Masen!"

He turned grinning at her predicament. 'H-E-L-P!' she mouthed and he nodded.

His booming voice rang, "People, people. Give the girl some space; she'll call you if she needs anything."

The sea of blabbering assistants parted, and Regan was quickly at his side. "Thanks Mr. Masen. I owe you one."

The elevator door opened and the duo entered. "Don't worry about it Regan. Getting your Dad to work with Wayne was brilliant. That's payment enough. I'll show you to your office."

"My pleasure, Lex Corps is just a bunch of bumbling idiots. Their stock went down 26 percent last quarter. On another note, do you mind if I leave early? I have to go shopping."

"Not at all. Today's pretty much introductions, but you need to call Wayne and set up a meeting."

"No problem."

The elevator stopped on the 17th floor, and Mr. Masen ushered her out. He led her to a very extravagant lobby. "This is your lobby, and your office is straight through those double doors. The meeting room is to your right, and the research office and such is on the left."

"Wow. Dad's been at this a long time." She summarized as she gazed at the spacious yet tastefully decorated floor.

"Well, yes. Since you left, this was his pet project. He swore that you'd come back and make us all proud. And what do you know? He was right. Being the proud poppa bear that he is, he decided that you deserved an entire floor." He stated smugly.

Regan lightly blushed. Looking past her boss, she eyed a woman lounging on a white leather loveseat.

"Who is that?" she quizzed.

"District Attorney Dawes, apparently, she needs to speak with you. And I'll take my leave. I'm on the next floor if you need anything." He replied kindly.

"Oh, alright. Thank you, Mr. Masen."

Regan walked him to the elevator, but quickly turned her attention to the DA. "Miss Dawes, how can I help you?"

"Ah, Detective Carmichael I presume? Jillian has told me so much about you. Anyways, I need to speak with you concerning your arrest, the evidence, and your abrupt disappearance."

Regan analyzed her: slender, average height, brown hair, brown eyes with fire lit in them.

"I'm only addressed as detective when I'm on duty. Here, I'm just Miss Carmichael. About the previous night, let's talk in my office."

Regan led the lawyer into her beautifully decorated office. Rachel was unsure of Regan. Jillian had gone on and on about how amazing this woman was, but seeing her like this took away from the nostalgia Rachel had been waiting so long for. Rachel could see the potential tough cop and wanted to bring it out.

"So about the arrest…" The DA drifted when she eyed Regan's shoulder. The executive growled inwardly.

"I was called to what looked like a 27-8 (shooting) over a drug deal gone awry—all DOA. Upon further examination, I found that the scene was just a cover up for 10-200 (Narcotics) and Cannabis (marijuana) stash. Plus a 10-65 (kidnapping) ring. I called HAZMAT to secure the area, and I went to further examine the bodies before the coroner arrived. One of them was a plant. The suspect pulled a knife; I pulled my weapon and ordered him to drop it. Before I could subdue the perp, he threw the knife into my shoulder. Apparently, the knife was laced with something, and I passed out. The next thing I remember was waking up at Wayne Manor. Allegedly Batman brought me there."

Rachel's face-hardened at the mention of Wayne Manor and Batman. "Why would Batman bring you to Mr. Wayne's house?" she questioned curtly.

"Bruce said that I had muttered his name before I passed out. Supposedly Batman thought I lived with him." Regan returned in a darker voice.

"Do you live with him?" The DA's face was brooding and her tone was more of an accusation then a question.

"That's an irrelevant question Miss Dawes. I'll have a full report on your desk by three."

"The question is relevant, because you brought him into this. Are you living with him?"

The lawyer's tone became hostile. Regan's eyes narrowed and retorted in a low voice, "That's none of your damn business."

"He's one of my best friends, so it's my business."

"Oh, really? So it's not out of jealousy that you're asking me about this; it's your deep concern for his personal welfare?"

The hard detective had come out—Rachel immediately recognized it, and snorted, "Of course I care about his well-being. So are you or aren't you?"

Regan watched the DA switch back and forth in tones and realized the lawyer was making her mad on purpose. _'Jillian mentioned something a while back about Dawes and Wayne…Oh, right. They were involved, and then Rachel broke his heart.'_

"You only care because he's your ex. Pathetic, don't you think? Why would you care if I was or I wasn't? Aren't you with Dent?"

"Don't try to make this about me, Detective, besides Dent died about nine months ago. Just answer the question, please." A whiny voice had come from her mouth.

Regan was stubborn, "No."

"Then I'll call him." Rachel knew it was an empty threat but attempted to remain serious. Rae searched for sign of weakness and easily found one—her eyes were downcast with self-doubt. "No, you won't. Are we done? I have meetings to make."

"Not until you tell me."

"I'll call security." She warned.

"Doubt they hall me away."

"Fine! I am, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? Hmm? My roommate kicked me out, and my parents don't want me at their place while they're away. Now you can leave right?" Regan fired back.

"Before I do, I should warn you about Bruce." Rachel stated rudely.

"Oh?" _'This is becoming more amusing by the second.'_

"He burns the candle at both ends."

"Miss Dawes, I'm not dating him. I'm just living with him."

"Right." The slender girl spat over her shoulder as she left the room. Regan slumped in her chair. "Looking forward to working with you too." She muttered to empty space.

Lifting the receiver, she buzzed her acting secretary. _"Yes, Miss Carmichael?"_

"First off, good morning. Second, let security know that Miss Dawes is not welcomed without an appointment or a warrant. Third, can you have research bring me the stats concerning Carmichael Industries and Wayne Enterprises? Finally, can you get me Wayne's number?"

_"Right away Miss Carmichael and good morning to you too."_

Within five minutes of the call, a knock sounded. "Come in." Regan offered.

"Miss Carmichael, here's everything you requested. I also grabbed you a cup of coffee and the morning newspaper."

"Thank you. This may sound silly, but what is your name?"

"Charlotte."

"That'll be all for now. Thank you, Charlotte."

Charlotte held a striking resemblance to Jillian, but her voice was softer and her face less intense. She wore a black pencil skirt complimented by a dark blue v-neck blouse. With a final nod, she silently exited the ostentatious office.

Regan spent the next two hours poring over the information and making side notes. Then she read the newspaper. The headline caused her to laugh:

**BATMAN APPREHENDS DRUG TRAFFICING RING**

_'Why does he get all the glory?'_

BEEP!

"Yes Charlotte?"

"Bruce Wayne, line one."

"Thanks."

Composing herself she answered, "Ahh, Mr. Wayne. I was about to call you."

_"Ahh, Miss Carmichael. Don't you sound professional?"_

_'Déjà vu.'_

She couldn't help but laugh. "Hi Bruce."

_"Hey Rae. Now that we're friends, we should probably discuss a time for the meeting."_

"I suppose. Would one o'clock Wednesday afternoon work for you?"

_"Hmm, I was thinking about right now."_

Regan was speechless. Then she heard, "Sir, she's on the phone."

_"Miss, I understand. I'm the one that she's on the phone with."_

Bruce strolled in like a god—his hair gelled back and wearing a suit that accentuated everything perfectly.

Regan put the receiver down and smiled faintly.

He instantly knew something was bothering her, her eyes were a murky gray. "Regan, what's wrong?"

Regan was startled at his perception. "It's nothing really."

He moved to face her, "Rae, it's enough to make your eyes change color. What happened?"

"Well, err…Miss Dawes paid me a visit."

His face darkened slightly and pressed, "And?"

"She's a highly over-protective ex. She ripped me a new one for disappearing from the crime scene. Then she asked me if I was living with you. I told her that it wasn't her business, but she easily annoyed the answer out of me. She was like 'I should warn you, he burns the candle at both ends.' I swear she only asked about you to get a razz out of me."

Bruce smirked, "And how did she respond when you told her that you were staying with me?"

"She got this look. Like I was crazy or something. Then jealousy took over which was amusing."

"Hmm, crazy and jealousy don't mix well." Regan laughed at his remark. She felt better that they were talking about this now rather than at dinner. "Well. You don't have to worry about her trying to win me back. I've moved on completely."

"Really. How?"

"Found someone new."

"Huh. What's her name?"

He grinned, "No names, but I'll give you a hint after we talk business."

After an hour of discussion, the duo stamped out a deal. As he rose to leave, Regan quickly asked, "And the hint?"

Smirking, he retorted, "I'm taking her to dinner tonight."

Before she could respond, his phone rang. Waving goodbye, he left her speechless and blushing. _'Me?'_

* * *

_Please Review (No flames please). Revised 6/08/10_


	6. Threats before Dinner:Good for Digestion

_Disclaimer: _I do not own DC Comics or characters associated with DC. I only own my OC.

_Author's Note:_ Thanks to those who reviewed: Fairy Skull, Serenity Moonlight, sjt1988, and Kris Knight.

* * *

Regan's heart thudded in her chest as she mulled over what Bruce had told her. _'How could he be remotely interested in me?'_

"HEY LADY WATCH IT!"

As she snapped out of her stupor, Regan realized that she was in the middle of the street. Attempting to regain her composure, Regan strolled confidently to the next store— she'd been shopping for about an hour and found way more than she really needed.

Shopping at stores like Christian Dior or Michael Kors made Regan feel like she was sixteen all over again— the smells, the essence, the thrill.

The next store she knew she had to shop at was Donna Karan. Regan felt that Karan always had the most sophisticated look, which was the look she desperately needed. After a few more hours of shopping, Regan placed her purchases in Bruce's car and drove to the Department. She knew she needed to get acquainted with the detectives. There was time for her to change into her normal detective garb—jeans, black long sleeve sweater, and her tennis. Pulling her badge and gun from the middle counsel, she hastily made her way to the Narcotics Unit.

"Good afternoon everyone." She stated in a booming voice causing her fellow detectives to gaze up at her in confusion. "I'm the new lead detective, Regan Carmichael, and you'll be reporting to me from this point on. I took the opportunity over the weekend to go through this unit's reports, and I just want to ask one thing—where the hell were you trained? This place is a sty, no wonder the city's rotting. From this moment, every single report will be neatly filed, and each lead will be considered. Detective Anna Ramirez, you are on desk duty until IAB clears you. Detective Flass, I'm suspending you without pay for your involvement with Carmine Falcone's drug operation. Everyone else, work."

Detective Ramirez instantly approached her, "Cap' that's your real title right? Anyways, you can't desk me, I'm the best."

"If you are, then IAB will clear you in no time. Plus, I don't need any cases turned over because of suspicion. Ramirez, your phones ringing." The detective unhappily went to answer the incessant ringing.

Regan instantly didn't trust her. _'There's something fishy.'_

Turning, she eyed Flass sitting at his desk blatantly disregarding her orders.

Her anger immmediately flared, and she growled, "Flass, get your ass out of here. Gordon didn't get rid of you for God knows why, but I'm getting rid of you. I won't hesitate to throw you out."

The grungy officer smirked, "Not with that hurt shoulder."

A lump gathered in her throat, _'How did he know?' _Her face remained emotionless as she returned, "You think a hurt shoulder's gonna stop me from kicking your ass?"

He stood up and countered, "No, but the person who coordinated that little episode will kill you if you suspend me. I like to call it job security."

She glared, "Obviously, your friend doesn't know me. Fear is a thing your mind concocts to warn you of danger, but I've come to override that function. Tell your job security that I don't take threats well. Now get the hell out of here before I do something I'll regret."

Flass' expression changed from amused to defeat.

"Gun and badge, now." She requested with an amused grin on her face.

"Yes Sir." He replied sarcastically as he thrust the items into her hands.

Watching him leave the unit was a relief that Regan greatly desired. His knowledge of her injury and who devised the assault intrigued her. The 'job securer' didn't scare her. In fact, the mentioning of the said individual angered her. Throwing those thoughts away, she grabbed a pile of reports to review and sign.

Hours passed, and the unit ran smoothly. Either the detectives were afraid of being suspended, or they actually needed her leadership. Regan hoped for the latter.

Glancing at the time, she realized she had to change for the dinner.

"Back in ten." She threw over her shoulder as she ran to her car. Grabbing her new dress and shoes, she headed back to the unit. Closing her office door and blinds, she changed into a Donna Karan black sculptural double-face organza one shoulder twisted fixed wrap dress accompanied by an small tiered ivory pearl necklace, and black satin Miss Dior nine centimeter pumps. Regan let out her ponytail, which allowed her mahogany locks to fall into natural loose curls.

Sighing as she opened her blinds and door, Regan weighed the option of leaving Ramirez in charge.

"Ramirez, my office, now." She stated from behind her paperwork-laden desk.

"Wow Cap' you clean up nice. Going on a date?" the detective quipped.

Chuckling, she replied, "It's a business dinner. I work two jobs, Ramirez... Anyways, I'm going to hand the reigns over to you tonight. If you run it well, I'll consider letting you back on the streets."

"Cap' who's the lucky guy?" she questioned with a teasing grin.

"That would be me." A deep voice answered from behind the cocky detective. Regan's eyes lit up as she glanced up at him. Ramirez's jaw dropped, "Bruce Wayne?"

"The one and only." He replied smugly as entered the office.

"Ramirez, you're in charge. Mess up, you'll be joining Flass."

"Yes Cap,'" She stated quietly.

"Regan, I wasn't serious about what I said the other night; you could've worn something else." He declared in a light tone as they left the HQ.

"Well, I figured I'd make the other models jealous." She laughed.

"There's no competition." He returned nonchalantly.

"Darn, I was hoping for some…Wow." She breathed as she gazed upon the silver Lotus Evora.

"Over the top?" he chuckled.

"Umm, no. It suits you beautifully." He opened the door for her, and she eased into the leather seats.

He took to the driver's seat and hit the gas pedal. As he drove, Regan couldn't help but steal glances at him. His eyes were lit with fire. He retained the god-like stature from earlier. If she was still a teenage girl, she'd be squealing in her seat.

"How was work?" his voice interrupted her silent squeals.

"It was interesting. I desked one detective and suspended another. The one I suspended tried to threaten my life. Ridiculous really, seeing as I could definitely outrun him. He stated, and I quote, 'but the person that coordinated that little episode will kill you if you suspend me. I like to call it job security.' I told him to get the hell out." She responded in an amused tone.

Bruce's face hardened as did his voice, "Who was this detective?"

Biting her lip she answered, "Detective Flass. He used to work in Commissioner Gordon's unit but was transferred to mine along with Ramirez. I suspended him for the work he did under Falcone. Don't worry, Bruce. Please."

He shot her a look of displeasure but dropped the subject. "How was your day?" she asked entertained.

"It was boring with the exception of when I made an important business deal with Carmichael Industries."

She blushed, "Bruce."

He glanced at her red complexion, "Am I the only one who makes you blush?"

"Possibly." She admitted.

"Good." He murmured as he turned into the valet stall at the Wayne International Hotel and Tower (modeled after Trump International Hotel and Tower in Chicago). The valet opened the door for Regan. The teenage boy's eyes widened as she majestically climbed out and flashed him a flirtatious smile. Bruce wrapped his arm around her waist as they were greeted by the paparazzi. "Bruce, who's your beautiful date?" "Bruce, this way!" Their calls made Regan grin as she and Bruce walked by. She could tell that he'd change his personality now. The playboy side was about to come out. She noticed that he switched personalities whenever publicity or social functions were involved. It was like he put up a wall that no one can penetrate. Regan respected him for that. His system seemed to work.

He led her to the five-star restaurant located to their right. "Right this way, Mr. Wayne. Mr. Queen, Mr. Luthor, and others are awaiting your arrival sir." Giving a simple head nod, Bruce and Regan walked to the gathering of executives and their dates. Oliver Queen was the first to greet the couple, "Bruce, good to see you. And who is your lovely date?"

A look of protection consumed Bruce's face, but it quickly disappeared, "This is Regan Carmichael of Carmichael Industries."

The tall blonde executive grinned, "Nice to finally meet you. Your father speaks greatly of you, but he left out how appealing you are."

Bruce glanced down at his date who didn't blush at the compliment.

"Well, I'm glad my Father spoke so highly of me; however, he never mentioned you in any of our discussions." She returned nonchalantly. The look of rejection was clearly displayed on the young millionaire's face. "I see."

Bruce held back a chuckle as he greeted the remaining business heads and finally took a seat beside Regan across from Luthor. "So Mr. Wayne, I hear you stole business from me." Luthor sneered, "The Carmichael contract was mine."

"Well, that wasn't my doing. They contacted me about the deal. Apparently, Carmichael doesn't trust you with his money."

"Is that true Miss Carmichael?" Luthor scoffed.

A smile played on her lips, "Actually yes. I looked over your quarterly earnings, stock value, previous business deals, and compared them with Wayne's. His company looked more trustworthy. I'm sorry Mr. Luthor, Wayne Enterprises is better than LexCorps."

Her statement silenced him for the rest of the night. Bruce's left arm wrapped itself around her shoulders as the dinner progressed, but his gesture didn't seem to make the overly skinny model beside Luthor stop staring at him. _'Two can play that game.'_ She thought as she placed her hand on his mid thigh. The billionaire displayed a momentary look of amusement, but he was interrupted by another executive's question. The model's gaze broke from him and moved on to the next executive.

The meeting ended, and the duo was the first to leave. As the valet left to get the car, Bruce mused, "The hand on the thigh was a surprise."

"What can I say? I'm full of surprises, besides that anorexic model next to Luthor had her eye on you."

"Really?" he laughed.

"Seriously Bruce, every time she looked at you, she would lick her lips. It was disgusting."

"So the thigh thing was marking your territory?" He asked raising an eyebrow.

"Yup, I came with you to the dinner. I was letting her know that I was leaving with you too." She smiled faintly.

"Did it work?" He was facing her now.

"Like a charm." Her green eyes stared into his dark ones for a moment, and she was lost again. He leaned in to kiss her, but the valet interrupted, "Sir, your Lotus Evora is ready."

Wincing at the missed opportunity, Bruce opened the door for Regan and easily reclaimed his seat.

"I'll drop you off in the garage, so you can drive my car back to the Manor. I have to make a few stops on the way home, so don't panic when you don't see my car in the garage."

"Alright. Should I wait up?"

"No, you have to go to work tomorrow." He stated in a teasing tone.

"Yay me. So was it me or was Queen overly interested?"

"In you, yes; in business, no. Since he couldn't drop the idea of being with you, I wrapped my arm around your shoulders. Worked like a charm."

Regan laughed heartily as he pulled into the garage. She climbed out and quickly pulled her keys from her hand purse. Upon entering the car, she heard the Lotus pull away. She drove to the Manor at top speed even though she knew Bruce wouldn't be there.

Parking the car in the designated spot, she eyed Alfred approaching.

"Hey Alfred, miss me?"

"Ah, yes. Miss Carmichael. How was dinner?"

"Wonderful. Bruce was extraordinary as usual." She returned as the two entered the Manor.

"If you could excuse me Alfred, I've had a long day. I'm hitting the hay."

"Very well Miss."

Regan changed into her pjs and quickly fell asleep.

* * *

_Please Review (no flames please). Revised 6/08/10_


	7. Territorial Men and Undercover Men?

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own DC Comics or characters associated with DC. I only own my OCs.

_Author's Note:_ Thanks to those who reviewed: Fairy Skull, Cybernetic Mango, 'meshi shiroi', alexceasar, and Madness is me.

_Side Note:_ I am so sorry for being late. I gave a deadline, and I failed to follow it. My bad. I hope this extra long chapter makes up for it. Enjoy.

* * *

Regan felt the monotony setting in as she awoke for the second day of work in the corporate world. The only irregular, spontaneous part in the stuffy atmosphere was her dealings with Bruce. She smiled at the thought.

She showered and dressed herself in a Vera Wang gray tissue organza top and a black spiral jacquard pencil skirt with gray pumps. Trying to be adventurous, she pulled her hair into a low ponytail, tugged it off to the right, and applied make-up. She quickly gazed at herself in the mirror, she had become what she had feared as a teenager—a businesswoman. It stung a little. However, Regan was happy with her decision to join her father's company; it was just going to take some getting used to. Grabbing her other work clothes/items and a gray wool pea coat, she left her room hoping that Alfred would not be in the kitchen.

To her disappointment, both men were in the kitchen. Alfred was dressed in his usual uniform and Bruce in his pajamas. Regan's trained eye readily noticed a huge welt on Bruce's bicep. The bruise's shape looked straight yet barrel like. _'Baseball bat._' Her mind automatically deducted. With a concerned look on her face, she made herself known to the two by clearing her throat.

Alfred read her facial expression, "Regan, what's wrong?"

Never taking her eyes off his arm, she shakily asked, "What happened to your arm, Bruce?"

"What?" He returned before he saw what she was staring at.

"Weight lifting accident." He muttered as he took a sip of coffee. She wavered on her assumption for but a moment.

"Which equipment?" She questioned suspiciously.

"Olympic bench press. I tried to lift too much, elbow gave out, and I twisted in time to have it land on my arm instead of my chest."

"Huh." _'Not buying it.'_

"Regan, what would you like for breakfast?" Alfred interrupted loudly and uneasily.

"Glass of OJ and maybe a piece of toast?"

"Done." Alfred agreed as he set a glass in front of her and placed the bread in the toaster.

_"Good Morning Gotham, this is Ann Daniels reporting live from the waterfront district. It seems that the Dark Knight rounded up yet another set of smugglers. This particular group specialized in firearms. The Gotham PD refused to comment on the capture, only that they thank the Knight and still request him to come in for questioning with regards to the Dent suicide."_

The TV was then muted. Bruce folded his arms in an annoyed stance. Regan momentarily stared at him and stated off-handedly, "I'm glad Batman's around."

"And why is that?" Bruce questioned in a confused tone.

"Less guns available, means not as many on the streets…this helps in a big way…I hate wearing Kevlar."

"Why? Is it itchy?" Alfred asked as he placed the toast in front of her.

"No, it inhibits movement, which is necessary in raids and such." Her eyes wandered back to the ugly bruise on his arm. It wasn't the shape of a bench press; it was much too wide for that. Regan held back her thoughts. Bruce seemed touchy about it. _'Broken ego, maybe?'_

"Shouldn't you be leaving to go to work?" His voice suspended her musing.

"I suppose. You want to get rid of me that quickly?" Regan returned in mock shock.

Shrugging, Bruce approached her with a smug expression. "You're the responsible adult who goes to work every day, remember?"

"Oh that's right, I go to work, while you do whatever you want. I forgot about that. Thanks for reminding me of the entrenched life I live." She dramatically countered.

Turning to leave, she felt his hand grasp her left shoulder. He pulled her back to face him. "How do you feel about a late lunch before you start your shift at the station?"

"I feel pretty good about it, but the question of the day is: Do I have the time?"

His confidence dwindled slightly, "So that's a no?"

Rolling her eyes, she chortled, "Of course I'll go. I was attempting to play mind games with you, but apparently it's too early for that."

"Actually it is."

"Whatever. Where are we meeting?" She huffed.

"I'll leave word with your secretary." He answered as he left the kitchen.

"Ugh, the games. Two can play, Alfred, but it seems he only plays when he knows he can win."

"I'd call that strategy, Miss Carmichael. Now, I'd say it's time for work."

"Thanks for reminding me yet again, Alfred." She growled as she headed for the garage.

By the time she was at her car, she found herself smiling like a little kid with a lollipop. Why? Bruce was taking her to lunch.

As if rushing to work would make time go faster, Regan hastily drove to work, rushed to the elevator, and clocked in at her floor five minutes early. Charlotte greeted her at the floor entrance.

"Good morning, Miss Carmichael."

"Same to you Charlotte. Any messages?"

"Yes, ma'am, three. One from Mr. Carmichael, one from a Mr. Queen, and, of course, one from Mr. Wayne. I didn't listen to the messages; I just checked the numbers." She reported sheepishly.

"Thanks for the update; I'll be in my office." Regan assessed as she winced at the thought of Mr. Queen calling her.

Once in her office, she exhaled a stressful sigh. Taking a seat, she grasped the receiver and pressed the voicemail button.

_"Message one: {beep} 'Regan, it's your Father. I need to ask you for a favor. I need you to meet with Oliver Queen this morning seeing that I cannot. The notes are in your top left drawer. All I need is for you to re-new the contract. Thanks, sweetheart. The meeting's at ten.' _

_Message two: {beep} 'Miss Carmichael, it's Oliver Queen. We met last night. Anyways, it seems that your father has given me the pleasure of meeting with you instead of him. Looking forward to seeing you at ten.'_

_Message three: {Beep} 'Rae, it's Bruce. I'll meet you at Tomatina's at eleven-thirty. See you then.'_

"_End of messages"_

Oliver Queen was going to be a handful.

Time passed until 9:55 shown on her clock. "God help me." She whispered as Charlotte buzzed, "Mr. Queen is here, Miss Carmichael."

Regan grabbed her father's notes and the contract, exited her office, and entered the vast meeting room on her left. She spied Mr. Queen gazing out the window. His blonde hair was slicked back similar to Bruce's, and his green pinstripe suit caught her eye. It was absolutely gaudy, but it somehow fit his persona perfectly. If she wasn't living with Bruce, she might have found him attractive. _'There was no comparison between the two. Bruce is perfect. Wait. Where did that thought come from?'_ Pushing aside her thoughts, she decided to make the most of this meeting.

"Mr. Queen. It's nice to see you again." She forced out as she stretched out her hand to shake his.

Smiling, he grasped her hand, "It's a pleasure, Miss Carmichael."

"Shall we get straight to the point?" Regan questioned as she took a seat across from him.

"I suppose so, but I would like to talk to after this."

"About?"

"Let's just say, it has nothing to do with business."

"Very well. My Father spoke to me earlier and said that this is just a renewal, yes?"

"Yeah, I was pleased with your Father's past contract. When he asked me to renew, I couldn't say no."

Regan gave a small courtesy laugh before handing him the contract and pen.

He quickly signed it and pushed it back to her.

"Thanks." She muttered as she placed the contract in a manila envelope for safe keeping.

"So, I was curious." He stated in a flirtatious tone.

"About?" She held in a growl of annoyance. Why couldn't he see that she wasn't attracted to him? He wasn't her type.

"Your social life." He returned in an almost purr.

Regan withheld a grimace. "And what about it?" _'He's not smooth.'_

"Are you seeing anyone? I mean, you came to dinner and left with Bruce Wayne. I assume that's a platonic relationship?" He reached across the table and grasped her hand.

Regan raised an eyebrow. _'Seriously?'_

"Well, Mr. Queen, I—"

"Call me Oliver." He rudely interjected.

"Well, Oliver, I'm currently—"

"Miss Carmichael? Mr. Wayne in on line one. He's says it's urgent." Charlotte announced from the doorway.

_'Praise God.' _

"Excuse me, for a moment, Oliver."

She grasped the telephone on the wall behind her, "Hello, Mr. Wayne, what can I do for you?"

"Regan, I assume you got my message?"

"Of course, but I didn't have time to call you back. I'm actually in a meeting."

"With who?"

"Oliver Queen."

Bruce laughed into the receiver, "I want to hear all about it. I'll see you soon. Good luck."

"Thanks, uh huh, and goodbye."

Turning back to face him she sarcastically stated, "Billionaires, whiny little girls, always in need of something— back to your question, I'm currently single, and as of right now, I'm not looking to change that status. I'm working two jobs and stuff. So, thanks for the interest, but no."

His eyes grew big with surprise, "You're telling me no?"

"Yes, I hope you understand, Oliver. I'm still settling in with my new life. My life is hectic enough that I don't want to involve anyone else at the moment. I'm sorry."

She certainly didn't feel sorry. This guy was relentless.

"What about Bruce? You make time for him." He challenged.

"Bruce and I have been friends for years. And, I'm in charge of our two companies ties. I should make time for him, right?"

"What did he want on the phone?" He questioned tensely. Apparently, Mr. Queen wasn't used to rejection.

"Wanted to make sure the deal went through."

"Right, that's why he asked you what you were doing and who you were with. Come on, Regan, I'm not stupid. Why him and not me?"

He was getting a bit worked up over nothing. "Oliver, I believe you are misinterpreting everything incorrectly. I told him, because he asked me what I was doing. We're friends, Oliver, nothing more. I'm not going to date anyone right now. I'm barely holding my life together. I need you to understand that it's not you or Bruce. It's all me." When had her lying skills been upgraded? Was Bruce rubbing off on her?

"Fine. It was nice doing business with you, Regan. See you around?" He conceded in a hopeful tone.

"Definitely. Thanks for understanding, Oliver. I'll have Charlotte call you once the deal is solid."

"Good. See yah." He left her alone in the meeting room.

Shaking her head in disbelief, she exited the meeting room and approached Charlotte's desk.

"Get this contract to my Father as soon as possible. Thanks."

"Right away, Miss." Charlotte breathed as looked up from her computer.

Nodding, Regan re-entered her office to find solitude. Her conversation with Oliver made her slightly sick. She felt worse after that meeting then when she and DA Dawes had gotten into it the previous day.

* * *

Regan easily found Tomatina's, and the parking lot associated with the revered restaurant. Before entering, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes in order to calm her nerves. When she entered she was greeted by the host. "How can I help you?" He breathed as he scanned Regan. Biting her lip in embarrassment, she returned, "I'm meeting a friend here. I believe he had a reservation under 'Wayne.'"

Nodding, he silently led her to the quieter part of the bustling eatery. She spied Bruce sitting in the corner lazily scanning over the menu.

"Bruce." She greeted as she slipped in the booth. He glanced up at her with an amused expression his face. Immediately she knew why he was being smug. Oliver Queen.

"How bad was he? He's notorious for not taking no for an answer." Bruce questioned entertained.

"Awful. He didn't get it at first. It was actually pathetic. He tried to play the 'why does Bruce get attention card.' Sad really, since I totally burned him last night." She animatedly rambled.

"Do I need to worry about him attempting to sweep you off your feet?"

"Hmm, no. I told him I couldn't be in a relationship right now."

Bruce raised his eyebrows in surprise and challenged, "Then what do you call this?"

Gulping, she shifted uncomfortably. At first, Regan didn't know how to answer, but then the words came to her. "Bruce, I told him that I couldn't be in a relationship. I never told you that."

"So you lied to me?"

"No, I lied to him."

Regan gauged his response, and he seemed rather delighted about her statement. He seemed as though he wanted to leave the subject open-ended, and she eagerly wanted the subject to drop.

Once they ordered lunch, dialogue returned. "So did you get all those errands done last night?" Regan thoughtfully asked.

"Actually, I didn't. So, I'll be out late again. Don't wait up."

"You think that I'd lose sleep over you doing errands?"

"It would make sense. I am the man of the house."

She snorted at his comment, "Let me get this straight. Just because you own the house, I'm supposed to lose sleep over you completing errands?"

"Maybe." He toyed.

"Maybe." She muttered as lunch was served. They ate in comfortable silence. Every so often he'd pause and watch her eat her chicken salad. Regan tried to focus on eating, but every time that he paused, she felt her heartbeat quicken. At the end of the meal, their eyes found each other. Neither party moved. Bruce's hand grasped hers. He leaned in toward her, and she did the same. His face was centimeters away from hers.

"Bruce, who's your new romance?" A man with a notepad shouted from the restaurant. He was dressed in a typical reporter's suit and was followed by a news camera man.

Bruce pulled back and glared at the men. "I'm sorry, Regan." He murmured as the men came closer.

"I'll see you later. Thanks for lunch." She whispered as she dashed toward the side exit. Guilt flooded her as she walked toward her car. She had left Bruce to the sharks. The media was an ever present part of their life, but she wasn't ready for the God-awful harassment that would come if the leeches learned of their relationship or lack thereof. There wasn't a word to describe their connection, at least, not yet.

A shout grasped her attention, "Bruce, who was she!" She spied her crush speedily walking toward her car with a 'hurry up' expression plastered on his handsome face. Regan unlocked the car and flung the door open for him to climb in. Pulling out, she kept her face away from the camera, and she peeled out. Bruce looked somber. Regan fumbled an apology, "Bruce, I'm sorry. Reporters are my biggest fear, but that doesn't excuse me leaving you."

"Regan, it's fine. I completely understand. I'm just glad you waited for me."

"Where do you want me to drop you off?"

"Wayne Enterprises. I'll get my car later." He decided as she turned into the business district.

"Yes, Mr. Wayne." She confirmed in a mock car attendant voice.

He laughed at her, and she soon joined in. As Regan pulled up to Wayne Enterprises' front entrance, Bruce leaned in and kissed her cheek. Instantly a rosy blush formed, and he triumphantly grinned. "I'll see you later. You be careful."

"Will do. Bye." She managed to choke out as she watched him enter the building. Regaining her composure, she drove to her beloved job.

* * *

"Shafer, explain this comment." Regan commented as she read over an arrest report.

"Which one, Captain?" the young detective countered. Detective Shafer was one of the quieter members of her squad. He was always clean cut and ready to work. He reminded her of a skinnier version of Daniel Craig.

"I'll read it to you—"

"Captain, we've got a situation." Ramirez interrupted from the squad room.

"And that would be?" Regan snapped as she left her office.

"Jennifer just called in sick. She was supposed to do that approved undercover buy tonight."

Without hesitation, Regan offered, "I'll do it."

"Really? That doesn't seem up your alley."

"That was my specialty in DC."

"Oh, okay. You won't be home till like two in the morning. Are you okay with that Captain?"

"Not a problem. I just need to call my roomy to let him know that I'll be really late."

"Sounds good. Look like a junkie by ten thirty."

"Got it." Regan confirmed as she re-entered her office.

"Forget the explanation, Shafer. Just keep personal commentary out of your reports unless it's pertinent to the case."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Dismissed."

Shafer left her with a nod. Sighing, she picked up the phone and dialed Bruce's number.

_"Regan?"_ He greeted with tension.

"Just wanted to give you a heads up that I'll be home around two. I have to stay late to supervise a drug bust. So don't freak if you don't see your car in your garage. Now, I'll let you get back to your important work."

_"Okay, be safe."_ He whispered.

_Click._

* * *

_10:15 PM_

"Excuse meh, Detective Ramirez, could yah point meh in tha direction of Captain Carmichael's office?" A slurred, raspy voice questioned the preoccupied detective. The detective turned to see a street urchin. The girl was covered in soot and dirt along with a few scattered bruises on her arms. She would have been beautiful, but her dark hair was matted and her complexion withered. Her clothes looked like they'd come straight from the thrift store, and the girl's bloodshot eyes informed the detective that this girl was on something.

"Tell, me, sweetheart, what's your name?" Ramirez cooed as her hand hovered over her firearm.

"Umm, I really don't know. I'm just here to buy." The woman winked.

"No way." Ramirez stated flabbergasted. "Cap'? That you?"

"Maybe, maybe not."

"I should have never doubted you."

"It's fine, Ramirez. Should I head over? It'll take me some time to get there on foot."

"Yeah, let's wire you up first."

"Already covered. Shafer's recording tonight. You're my handler."

"Gotcha. See you soon, Cap'."

Regan shuffled out of the department with a disgusted expression. This was going to either go extremely well or terribly bad. Slumping her shoulders, Regan automatically shifted her mindset to that of a crack addict. Every so often she'd itch her arms and tremble. Her eyes showed desire and need. Regan, however, remained in full control and patiently waited for the opportune moment to switch back to herself.

Soon after her departure, she easily made it to her location at the outskirts of the business districts—where the Narrows began. The bridge was down, which allowed Regan to cross unnoticed by the nearby patrolman who was not in the loop.

A shadow to her far right caught her attention. It was statue-esk. Scurrying further then what she had planned, the crack addict immediately eyed her target. He was tall, skinny, and eerie looking. His eyes were beady and black. The target dressed in the typical drug dealer attire: dark jeans, dark shirt with a black overcoat.

"Shafe, you got me?"

"All clear, Cap'." He relayed.

Sheepishly, she approached the man. He looked her up and down, "Need something darling?"

Regan stuttered, "Uh, yeah, uh, I need some of it. Mark said you had the real stuff. I need it. Real bad." She wrapped her arms around herself to flash him the needle marks.

"You have a habit, huh?" he teased as he leaned closer.

"Umm, yeah, sure, whatever you say. I just need some. Now. I have the cash." She hissed with feign pain.

"Okay, slow down, and keep quiet. The Dark Knight's been out and about."

Regan's eyes widened in fear, "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm just in a lot of pain."

"Alright, let me tell you what you're going to do. Pay me, and pick the stuff up around the corner. It's in a shoebox. Eighty bucks, now."

"Alright, sure, sure." She agreed in haste. Thrusting the money into his hands she took off around the corner. As expected, the box was sitting behind a garbage can. Carefully she opened the box and found at least one kilogram divided up into small baggies ready for distribution.

"Shafe, kilo. Tell Ramirez to take it, while I take the target out."

"Yes, Cap'."

Regan placed the box back in its original location. Walking in a zig zag manner around the corner, Regan re-approached the dealer.

"Find it?" he growled in impatience.

"Yeah, but I need to know somethin'."

"And that would be?"

"If I couldn't make it back here next week. Do you have an associate that could take care of me cross town?"

"Nah, I work alone."

"Alright, Mr. Daniels. Could you please put your hands behind your back?"

"How do you know my—"

In a blink of an eye, Regan flipped the suspect on his stomach and yanked his arms behind his back. "You are under arrest for possession of a narcotic with intent to sell and distribute. Each baggie is one count. You have the right to remain silent. You give up that right, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an—"

"Save it bitch, I know my rights." He spat.

Pulling him to his feet, Regan escorted him to an undercover car parked in the side alley a block down.

"Cap'?" Ramirez's voice beckoned in the ear piece.

"Yes?"

"Up for one more buy? The guy's two blocks over."

"Will do. Keep close. Oh, his name?"

"Last name Lenski. Be careful, sometimes his twin brother tags along, but my gut says not tonight. The other Lenski was spotted near the waterfront working the docks."

"Got it."

Regan sauntered over two blocks before she morphed back into addict mode. Slightly trembling, she muttered to a dirty blonde man dressed in a long gray coat and slacks. "I need it. Please."

"Whoa, which 'it' are we talking about?" He purred as he wiggled his eyebrows at her.

"The stuff…I'm hurting, please." She added a grimace at the end of her plea.

"Fine. Ninety."

"Okay, okay." She shoved the cash into his hands as he dropped the baggie into her hands. The baggie held more than the previous bust.

Fidgeting as she stuffed it in her pocket, she flashed him a grateful smile before she left him.

"Take him down, Ramirez."

"Got it."

Regan glanced about. The shadow remained but had moved one alley over. _'I bet I know who that is.'_ She scoffed as she darted into that very alley. Something inside her wanted to see him up close. Gazing up, she came face to face with him. He was bigger than what she had previously thought. Her breathing halted when she saw the intricacy of his suit. The Dark Knight's movement of folding his arms across his chest caught her attention, as did the amusement displayed in his body language. His stance reminded her of Bruce. Confidence soared as she compared the two. She found it easy to make fun of Bruce, so why not apply it to the Dark Knight?

"You thought I was an actual addict, didn't you?" She teased as she took a step closer. "I thought I should tell you now, this is just the first of many undercover buys. So try to decipher between the real addicts and the fake ones. Okay?"

He huffed in reply. As she turned to leave, she laughed, "I spotted you as I walked into this neighborhood. Perhaps you should work on your stealth mode."

She left him to ponder that. Regan was having a natural high. Successful undercover jobs usually brought out her spunky side.

To her entertainment, Ramirez was at her side the minute when she returned to the scene.

"Captain, may I have the baggie?"

"Of course." She dropped the baggie inside an evidence bag.

"You and Shafer drop them off at booking, I'll drop the evidence off at the lab and begin filing reports and filling out paperwork. See guys back at the house."

"Sure, Captain, see you back at the house." Ramirez agreed as she left to find Shafer.

About two hours later, Regan found herself in her office filling out paperwork that DA Dawes assisted was necessary. Apparently, the wire was not enough, nor was the video camera hidden in a cluster of hair. Detailed reports about each individual were necessary, plus personal commentary on every moment. Regan swore that this was pay back from the DA's office for the previous altercation.

It was one thirty am. There was no way that she could fill out all the paper work, drive home, sleep, drive back, and be ready for work. Shaking the sleepiness from herself, Regan decided to remain at the department. There was a room set aside for cops who needed a place to crash. It wasn't until four-thirty that Regan was finally able to sleep. Her alarm sounded at six.

Stretching, she climbed off the cot and headed for the bathroom. She hastily pulled her messy hair back into a bun, washed her face and arms, changed into clothes from yesterday with the exception of her top, and left the department.

Returning to her office was easy. According to Charlotte, no messages were left, and her father was pleased with yesterday's outcome. Regan wasn't sure what to do with herself. As if signaled, Charlotte buzzed, "Miss Carmichael, Mr. Wayne is here."

"Send him in." Regan wearily commanded.

Bruce ambled in with a concerned look on his face. "You didn't come home last night."

"I slept at the station. The DA had me up till four-thirty filling out paperwork. I swear she made me do it was for payback."

"Oh, well, it's over now, right?"

"Yes, until the next undercover mission." Regan slightly agreed.

"How does a tour of Wayne Enterprises sound? I could carry you if you'd like."

"The tour sounds great, though I'm not so sure about the carrying part. I can walk."

"If you say so."

"And this is my office." Bruce stated as he ushered Regan inside. His office was twice as big as hers.

"Quite an empire you have here Bruce." She complimented as she gazed out the window.

"Empire?"

"It certainly seems that way. Maybe empire was too strong of a word. Perhaps kingdom?"

Laughing sounded from behind them.

"Mr. Fox." Regan greeted as she hugged him.

"Good to see you, Regan." He paused and addressed the billionaire, "Did you forget that we have a meeting with Queen today?"

Regan eyes narrowed to a glare at him and hissed, "Queen?"

Smirking, Bruce ignored her, "I didn't forget Lucius. I thought Miss Carmichael would like to know who I'm dealing with. After all, we are connected."

Lucius nodded and headed in the direction of the meeting room.

"Queen?" Regan repeated as she moved to face him.

"I thought you would enjoy seeing him again."

"No, you didn't. I know that look in your eye. You're planning something."

"Me? Plan? That's too much work. Now, if you could join me in the meeting room that would be great." Annoyed, she followed him to the meeting room.

Regan felt like she was going to throw up. This was going to end badly. Why couldn't Bruce let things be? Hadn't she already told Oliver no, and him yes? _'Men are so territorial.'_

She thought as her eyes met Oliver's. "Regan, I didn't expect you to be here."

"Me either. Bruce said I should sit in and observe; if that's alright with you?"

The blonde's confused expression swiftly changed to intrigued. "That's fine with me."

"Great, now that you two have agreed on the meeting. Let's talk business." Bruce asserted authoritatively.

"Of course, Bruce. What else would we discuss? You and Regan's relationship?" Oliver Queen sneered as he smiled sweetly at Regan.

"Oliver, now is not the time for you to make assumptions about either myself or Regan. You renewed your contract with Carmichael Industries yesterday, do you wish to renew with Wayne Enterprises?"

"Yes, I would. You're company is the sole manufacturer of the certain chemicals I need for my products."

"Good to hear." Bruce stated with gritted teeth as he slid the contract across the table. The millionaire glanced at the two with a thoughtful expression.

As he signed he quipped, "You two suit each other."

"Excuse me?" Regan growled.

Oliver grinned, while Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Your personalities mesh perfectly. I can see why you keep her close Bruce. You finally found someone who can keep up and understand you. While Regan uses you as her solid ground. I didn't realize it until right now."

"Uh huh." Regan muttered in disbelief.

"Thank you for your business, Oliver. If you both could excuse me for a moment, I need to speak with Mr. Fox privately."

Regan watched as he left her alone to fend for herself.

"It's true, Regan. Stop fighting it."

This was too much. The department sounded like a wonderful switch.

"Oliver, could you do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"Tell Bruce that I left for my second job."

"Will do." The blond mocked saluted as she left the room.

Once she arrived back at Carmichael Industries, she immediately left. Her cell rang as she left the parking garage.

"Hello."

_"You left."_ Bruce sounded upset.

"I did. I have another job to tend to."

_"It's only ten."_ She searched for an excuse.

"Yeah, well, I still have a lot of left over paperwork. I'll see you at home."

_"Fine."_ He ended the conversation with an icy tone and swift hang up.

Closing her eyes in frustration, Regan let loose a stream of obscenities. Her lack of self control did not improve her thought process. Leaning into the seat, she drove to her normal parking spot. The coming hours were going to be difficult for her. She'd managed to hurt the one person she deeply cared for. Deeply? Did she want to admit that she felt something for him? Pushing emotions aside, she entered the department entrance and then the squad room. Only Shafer was present to greet her.

"You're in early." He greeted with a genuine smile.

"Yeah, thought I'd help out with more paperwork and go through Ramirez's files." She shrugged as she left him and went into her office. Her seat had a comforting effect upon her. Grabbing a file, she set to work approving and correcting reports.

Regan spent all afternoon working on whatever came her way. Eventually, it was time for her to leave, which she was visibly hesitant about.

The drive home was quiet. Regan forced out every thought that came to her mind, so she could be at peace. Her nerves were wearing down. Even among all this aching, she still wanted to see him. There was something about him that drew her to him. Was Queen right? Was he her solid ground, her rock? _'You're thinking again.'_ She scolded herself as she pulled into her spot in the garage. Climbing out, she readily noticed that his Vanquish was not in its spot. Frowning, she entered the manor and headed for her room. A warm shower sounded heavenly, but she knew she had to speak with Alfred first.

Regan left everything in her room, including her heels, and began to search for the cunning butler. After ten minutes of hunting, she gave up and headed for dining room.

"Miss Carmichael?" Alfred beckoned from the kitchen.

"Coming." She relayed with frustration. Why hadn't she checked the kitchen?

"Hey Alfred," she greeted with a faint smile.

"Good evening, who were you looking for?" He questioned as he stirred something on the stove.

Her concentration broke when she caught a whiff of dinner. "Smells good. I was actually looking for you."

"Oh, and why is that?" He asked as he turned to face her.

She took a seat at the island and returned, "I wanted to ask you about Bruce's bruise."

"Miss Carmichael, I prefer not to discuss it."

"But why? He blatantly lied this morning. There is no way it could have been the bar from the bench press."

"Regan, I cannot and will not talk about this right now. Let's enjoy dinner." He stated firmly as he set a plate of Asian stir fry in front of her.

"Fine. Where's Bruce anyways?"

"He called just before you arrived. He's working late. As usual, he said for the both of us to not wait up."

Regan shook her head. "Of course he did."

Alfred glanced at her in surprise and quipped, "You seem bitter. Did you want him home?"

Biting her lip, she admitted, "I ditched him this morning. I was hoping to apologize for my behavior, but it seems that he's never around at dinner. How does he survive Alfred?"

"Ambition." He teased.

"Seriously." She murmured as she took a bite.

Dinner ended very quickly. Both ate extremely fast and avoided each other. Regan was done with explaining herself to people, especially Alfred.

Aggravated she went back to her room, showered, and drifted off into sleep.

* * *

_This was definitely a filler chapter :P. Please review (no flames please). Revised 6/08/10_


	8. Curiosity Killed the Cat Part A

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own DC Comics or characters associated with DC. I only own my OC.

_Author's Note:_ Thanks to those who reviewed: 'Meshi Shiroi', ledgerloverx3, Fairy Skull, and Cybernetic Mango-your reviews mean a lot.

_Side Note:_ My apologies for the shortness-the rest of the chapters will be shorter than the previously posted ones.

_Enjoy._

* * *

Regan awoke to a door slam and shuffled footsteps. She quickly opened her door and eyed Alfred jogging down the hall toward the southeast wing of the manor. Being as silent as possible, she followed him to the library where he played an excerpt of Claire de Lune, which caused an opening in the wall to appear. Waiting until he was gone, she played the identical notes, and the secret passage reopened.

Regan cautiously entered and found herself in an elevator that automatically took her down. The automatic doors opened to a pain-filled yell and then silence. Her eyes swept the cave and focused on the shadow moving in the dim light. Should she investigate? _'Curiosity did kill the cat.'_ She sarcastically thought as she ventured further into the cave. As her eyes adjusted, she could make out Alfred tending to a man laying a medical table. He was Bruce's height dressed in a black suit. Her eyes widened.

"Sir, I can't stop the bleeding on my own. I need help. Damn it, don't fall asleep."

"Alfred, tell her that I love her." A raspy voice pierced the darkness.

"Don't start that." The older man cooed. Regan's mind put two and two together. Batman was dying, and Batman was Bruce.

She rushed forward and placed her hands where Alfred's were. "I'm here to help." Alfred nodded and swiftly tended to Batman's other wounds. His mask was still on, but she could tell his eyes were closed. She felt his blood drench her hands. A shiver traveled down her spine due to a draft in the cave_. 'A camisole and short shorts aren't appropriate cave wear. Focus, Regan.'_

Contemplating on how she could help, she frantically asked, "Alfred, what's his blood type?"

"AB positive." Came a quick, mechanical reply.

"Lucky for him, that's my blood type too. He needs a least a unit. Take mine." Regan released his wounds and quickly sat next to his unconscious body. Alfred didn't hesitate to hook the two up and begin an emergency transfusion. As she waited for it to end, Alfred worked meticulously on the injured Bat. "What happened?" her voice faltered.

"A shooting, the suit can only handle so many rounds." His voice was strained. Minutes later, he pulled the needle out of Regan and went back to work. "What can I do?"

"Check his head for injuries."

Carefully lifting his head up, she pulled the cowl off. There was her new love, unconscious. Scrupulously scanning his head and neck, she found nothing wrong.

"Nothing here." She whispered.

"Good, come here, I need you to pull the bullet out. My hands are too big."

He handed her a sterile glove. Gulping, she placed her hand in the gory slot. "Feel to the left." He ordered tensely. She felt for it for a few seconds.

"Got it." She stated as she pulled the bullet out. Alfred quickly sewed him up. "That's it as far as medical procedures go. But may I ask you to help me carry him to his room?"

"Sure Alfred." Her voice sounded hoarse and scared. Alfred lifted the upper half and Regan the lower. They placed Bruce's broken body into a wheelchair.

Eventually, they succeeded into getting him to his room.

Regan sat on the floor next to his bed covered in his blood. Her mind was clicking all the clues together—his apprehensiveness to let her go the Narrows, his disappearing act, his reaction to Flass' threat, his mysterious bruises, his entire demeanor—the two-sided Bruce.

"Oh my God." She muttered. Standing, she stared at was she supposed to do now?

Brushing away his hair from his eyes, she whispered, "Bruce, I'm—" Abruptly she stopped talking, instead she climbed in bed beside him. His body was cold. "Damn." She muttered as she carefully wrapped herself around the parts of his body that were not injured.

Watching his chest slowly rise and fall, she eventually wandered into a light sleep.

The rising sun awoke her. Glancing at the alarm clock, it declared that it was 6:30 AM, and she only had an hour to get to work at Carmichael Industries. Stretching as far as she could, she lifted the phone beside the bed, and dialed her father's number, "Hello?"

"Hey Dad. I can't make it into work today." She stated in a whisper.

"Why are you whispering? And okay." He chuckled back.

"Because Bruce is sleeping." She grimaced at the implications of that statement.

"You're sleeping with Bruce?" It was either lie or make up a ridiculous excuse.

"Yes, Dad. Umm, I gotta go. I'll call you later to talk business."

"Bye Sweetheart. Oh, and your sister sends her hellos. She's home from rehab. You will come and visit her, won't you?"

"Sure Dad. Love ya, bye."

Hanging up the phone, she reclaimed her warm spot next to Bruce. Sleep never came back to Regan. The thought of her sister being out of rehab made her sick. The news didn't help her mental or physical state. Bruce was still unconscious, and she needed him to tell her that Mercedes wouldn't be that bad or he'd go with her.

"Please wake up." She whispered as her hand played with his hair. His hand instantly grabbed her hand and twisted. Wincing, she whispered, "Bruce, let my hand go. It's me, Regan." His hand dropped hers as his eyes opened.

"Why aren't you at work?" he hoarsely questioned.

She rolled her eyes, "Alfred said you were sick, I took the morning off. I was worried."

"Well, I'm alright. Go to work, I'll see you when you get home." He replied in a dismissive tone. He didn't even look at her. His eyes were cold.

Feeling sick to her stomach, Regan scrambled out of his bed and headed for her room. She didn't look back; she passed Alfred. He asked her what had happened.

"Don't tell him that I know. He's not ready for it." She forced out as she shut her door.

Numbly, she stepped into the shower and washed away the blood. After that, she towel dried her hair and dressed in a nude stretch crepe jersey three quarter sleeve off the shoulder bodysuit with a twisted neckline accompanied by a black raffia and cork embroidered net havana skirt with Dior white 2.5-inch heels.

Grabbing a pair of jeans, a sweater top, her badge, gun, and ID, she stuffed the items into a large handbag and practically ran to the car. With the sick feeling still overwhelming her, there was no point to eat. Driving at top speed, she was at Carmichael Industries in less than 20 minutes. Regan entered the building greeted by the same assistants. "I don't need any help." She hissed in a low tone causing everyone to immediately back away. Luckily, the elevator was empty as she stepped in.

When she reached her floor, her eyes immediately recognized Mercedes chatting up Charlotte. _'This day can't get any worse.'_ She thought as she approached the two.

"Miss Carmichael, your Father said you wouldn't be in due to personal reasons."

"Good morning to you too, Charlotte. Do me a favor, call Lucius Fox over at Wayne Enterprises and let him know that I know."

"Okay..." She replied confused.

"Hey Sis, how are you? Did you miss me?" The tall blonde blue-eyed former drug addict questioned in an overly bubbly manner. She wore tight low rise jeans and a bright green and purple halter. _'Is she on uppers?'_

"Sure. Look, I'm busy, Mercedes. Can we talk another time?" Regan returned coldly.

"I guess. I need to tell you about all the different men I've nailed." She stated with a huge grin.

"Awesome. I got to take a call, I'll see you at Mom & Dad's." Regan muttered through clenched teeth. _'Great, just what I want to hear.'_

"Alrighty then." She returned while simultaneously batting her eyes. _'Please go away.'_

Regan rolled her eyes and entered her office, which offered her solitude. Her phone beeped, _"Miss Carmichael, Mr. Fox line one, Mr. Wayne line two."_

"Thanks Charlotte."

"Hello, Mr. Fox."

_"What do you know?"_ he questioned concerned.

"I know enough. Just know that." She toyed.

_"This isn't funny, Regan."_

"Sorry, Mr. Fox. I know the other half of—"

_"You don't need to say anymore. Good afternoon, Regan." Click._

Taking a few seconds to calm herself, she answered line two, "Hello?"

_"Regan, it's Bruce. Look, about this morning, I'm sorry."_

"What are you sorry about Bruce? You were sick, and I overstepped boundaries. It was my fault." She breathed into the receiver.

_"Fine, but we need to talk when you come home. I need to tell you something."_ His voice sounded tired and soft. Just then, Mercedes walked in and asked loudly, "Who are you talking to Regan? Is he cute?" Regan closed her eyes in frustration. _'Why me, God?'_

Bruce snickered on the other line, _"Mark your territory, that is, if you still want it."_

Fighting back an evil grin, she seductively returned, "We'll do more than talking, babe. In fact, I think I'll come home early, if that's okay with you. I miss you."

Mercedes jaw dropped, "Who are you talking to?"

_"Regan, I think you more than marked it."_ He replied in a deeper tone.

"REGAN! Who are you talking to?" Mercedes screeched.

"Maybe, but I'll be seeing you later, love. Bye." Regan replied quietly.

_"Good bye and good luck." _

"Mercedes, it's none of your business who I talk to." She returned acidly.

"Why not? I've never seen you with a guy, let alone talk semi-dirty on the phone." The girl summarized in a growl. Regan had never seen Mercedes get worked up over nothing. It usually took more than that.

"You haven't seen me in years, Mercedes. People change."

Regan faintly heard Mercedes murmur, "You have no idea."

* * *

_Please Review (no flames)._


	9. Curiosity Killed the Cat Part B

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own DC Comics or characters associated with DC. I only own my OC.

_Author's Note:_ A very special thanks to those who reviewed: Fairy Skull, ledgerloverx3, Cybernetic Mango, and 'Meshi Shiroi'

_Side Note:_ Ever wonder how Bruce was shot? Part B answers that question. :) (Apologies for shortness, like I stated previous chapter...the chapters will be short from now on.)

_Enjoy._

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"It was a muggy night in Gotham City. The air was heavy with aggression and insufferable fear. Gotham, once a tourist/business city, turned into a haven for mafia quarrels and gang warfare. The city's police force changed from prevention to facilitation; they were crooked and drank themselves into oblivion. The 'good' people were either hunted or turned. Affiliations and boundary lines mean everything in this rotting city. Drugs fuel the decrepit and ignorant. This city is the epitome of evil…That's what I want to read in history books when we're finished with our plan." Joe Bocchieri monologue to his miniature army of twenty men. Joe towered at 6'4 and weighed in at a startling 320. His Armani suit wheezed under his immense weight as he paced across the dimly lit headquarters. His beady eyes skeptically scanned his men for a sign of disgust.

"Travers, report." He ordered as he lit a cigarette and took a long drag. "Detective Carmichael seems slightly subdued due to her injury and second job, but she was able to haul in two major drug dealers. Gordon and DA Dawes are still going strong—"

"Second job?" Bocchieri interrupted. Travers light blue eyes closed with fear as he ran his hand through his sandy locks before he continued, "Yes, sir. She works for Carmichael Industries."

"Doing what?"

"She's the go between Carmichael and Wayne Industries. I can see why. She & Wayne are real cozy." Travers smooth voice announced.

"Flass," Bocchieri addressed with a chuckle, "did you deliver our message?"

"I did, and she didn't care. I didn't even startle her. She took my badge and gun." He murmured bitterly.

"She's got spunk, I'll give her that. But she wasn't around when the Joker came to town. We're finishing what he started. I think we'll let her live, so she can see the true nature of Gotham."

"How do we do that boss?" Flass and Travers questioned excitedly.

"The same way the Joker took Dent out of the picture. We use the man she loves against her."

"Sir, I have one thing to point out." A voice called out of the sea of men.

"Yes Lenski?"

"You forgot about—" He was cut off by the lights shutting off. Loud crashes could be heard from all sides. Panicked gunfire erupted in the warehouse-like headquarters.

"Who is it?" One man gasped in fear.

"Who do you think? The Batman." Lenski chided monotone.

"He's gonna—" he was silenced by a dark shadow pulling him into the rafters. More shots rang out, but every time they fired, someone else would disappear. Eventually, Bocchieri and Flass were all who remained.

"Who are you working for?" a deep raspy voice menaced. Flass instantly vanished with a silenced yelp of fear.

Bocchieri glared into the darkness and stated seriously, "You don't want to know."

"Yes, I do." The dark shadow snarled as the 320-pound man was shoved into a cement wall. He'd never been this close to the Batman, and he realized that he was scarier than what the stories had described. "Who?" The caped crusader demanded.

"She employed us. I don't know her name, but she's not what she looks like. It's all a front."

"What's a front?" Batman's voice boomed.

"She pretends to be a junkie, err, she went to rehab. You would recognize—" A gun silenced the tattling mobster. The mobster grabbed his own neck and pulled out a tranquilizer dart. Batman glanced about, no one. His adrenaline rush subsided, and the pain from being shot began to settle in. Managing to leave no trace, he exited the district and found his new tumbler model waiting for him. Climbing in, he radioed, "Alfred, I've been shot, see you in ten."

"Yes, Master Wayne." The older man returned quietly.

Batman couldn't believe Regan was the central target of the mysterious gang. Why wasn't Gordon or Dawes? _'It's personal.'_ he thought. A sharp pain ricocheted through him causing him to gasp for air. He made it to the cave, pulled himself out of the tumbler, and laid himself on the table.

Soon, he vaguely felt Alfred begin tending his wounds. Sleep began to beckon him. "Sir, I can't stop the bleeding on my own. I need help. Damn it, don't fall asleep." He wanted to tell Regan that he wasn't mad at her, and, more importantly, how he felt.

"Alfred, tell her that I love her." He rasped out.

"Don't start that." Alfred scolded tenderly. The last thing he saw was Regan rushing forward with a look of horror plastered on her beautiful face. His entire body went numb.

His senses returned slowly; his ears faintly heard a heartbeat other than his own, his body catalogued where his wounds were and that there was another body wrapped around his, and he felt someone touch his hair. Instincts caused him to grab the wrist and twist.

"Bruce, let my hand go. It's me, Regan." A melodic voice whispered softly.

Opening his eyes, he glanced over at her and questioned hoarsely, "Why aren't you at work?"

He watched her roll her eyes animatedly, "Alfred said you were sick, I took the morning off. I was worried."

Her voice danced in his ears, but he felt anger well up at the thought of last night's events. Looking straight up at the ceiling, he hissed, "Well, I'm fine. Go to work, I'll see you when you get home."

She didn't fight him, which greatly surprised him. Regan fled the room covered in a dark liquid. He inwardly groaned before skillfully climbing out of his bed. He appraised himself in the mirror for fifteen minutes—all the bruises, bandages, and scars. Bruce grabbed his robe as he left his room. Hearing a door open and quickly shut, Bruce spotted Regan sprinting toward the garage.

"Sir, you should apologize." Alfred stated beside him.

"I will, along with telling her the truth about everything including who's after her." Bruce stated confidently.

"You know the mastermind?" Alfred questioned alarmed.

"Alfred, remember that phrase, 'blood's thicker than water'?"

"Yes, Sir. That phrase is commonly attributed to families."

Ignoring Alfred's musing Bruce declared, "Well, not in this case."

Alfred stiffened, "I see. I'll be there to help."

"Thanks Alfred." He smiled faintly at his second father.

"Not a problem Master Bruce, however, now I must re-dress your wounds." The older man stated amused.

"Stitches?" Bruce questioned comically.

"Possibly."

"Damn, when you do them, they hurt." the billionaire half-whined.

"That's because I stitch properly."

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_Please Review (no flames please)Revised 6/08/10_


	10. Man's Measure of a Man Part A

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own DC Comics or characters associated with DC. I only own my OC.

_Thanks to those wonderful people who reviewed (keep the reviews coming :] )_: 'Meshi Shiroi', Lisa Marie M., Fairy Skull

_Author's Note:_ Enjoy!

* * *

Regan hastily left Carmichael Industries hoping Mercedes wouldn't follow. Her silent prayers were answered as she climbed into the Benz. The muted drive to the station helped Regan to evaluate her younger sister.

_'She didn't look like a recovering junkie. Her hair was completely healthy, skin blemish free, not to mention the lack of weight gain or loss.'_

"Her habit is a lie," stated through clenched teeth. "Damn it!"

After parking her car, she sauntered into the building with her mind racing to put the puzzle together.

"Captain Carmichael, a word." She gazed to her left to see Gordon calling her.

Entering his large office, Regan took a seat and awaited his assessment.

"Narcotics is running more effectively already. I'm impressed." Gordon complimented as he stared at the city skyline.

"Thank you Sir, but I haven't—"

Her plea was interrupted, "Nonsense Carmichael, I witnessed your interaction with the unit. You've changed things."

"Well, I'm glad to hear it." She affirmed with a forced smile.

"I want to give you an accommodation for the incident days ago and for the performance displayed here." His voice was firm and authoritative.

"Yes, Sir. Is that all?" Regan muttered flustered. She never appreciated this type of attention. _'Awards mean nothing,'_ she thought as Gordon dismissed her, _'they're just man's measure of another's work.'_

Entering the squad room, Regan took a headcount. "Ramirez, where's Ross?"

The detective glanced up with a smirk painted on her face. "Arrested with Flass last night. Apparently they were selling/shipping illegal firearms."

"Damn it, that means every collar will be questioned. Double check everything, Ramirez. I don't want any bastards getting away because of this. I'll put in for a replacement. Anything else happen last night?"

"No ma'am." She paused, "There is a letter for you on your desk."

Regan took a deep breath, "Good Work."

Willing herself to go to her office, Regan flipped on the lights and appraised her surroundings. Something was off: the letter. The letter on her desk was not normal. The elegant script, _"Captain Regan Carmichael",_ caused her to feel anxious and uncertain. Carefully picking it up, she calmly walked to the lab adjacent to the police department. Spying the trace office, she hurried into the high-tech room.

"How can I help you?" A cute college-age boy questioned from behind a computer. "Uhh, yes." She quickly read his nametag, "Derek, I need you to check this letter for any foreign substance." She bit her lip with fear that he'd ask questions.

" Uh, okay. Is this part of a case? If so, I need the case number." He relayed as he fidgeted with his dark square-rimmed glasses. Regan took a deep breath.

"No, this isn't part of case. My life has been threatened. I'm just taking all the necessary precautions." He cocked his head in amazement. His dark blue eyes constricted ever so slightly as he placed the letter in a plastic box. "I'll open the letter in the air tight box, that way if there is any inhalant or powder substance, it'll be stuck in there. Plus, the computer will run an analysis if there is anything."

"Do it." Regan commanded with a slight edge.

Nodding to himself, Derek placed his hands in the gloves, lifted the letter, and opened it very slowly. The Captain's patience was wearing thin. _'Hurry up.'_ She mentally whined.

As he pulled the actual letter out of the envelope, a white powder burst forth. "Wow." Derek breathed as he glanced at the computer analysis. "It's that fear inhalant. You know the one that Dr. Crane or Scarecrow released in the Narrows a year or two back."

Turning his attention back to letter, he read for but a moment. The blood-drained from his face as his body became rigid. "Uh, umm, err. I—" He managed to stutter out before Regan shoved him out of the way. At first she thought her eyes were deceiving her or that her mind was playing tricks, but they were not. The letter did not retain the same elegant handwriting as the envelope did.

_**Captain Carmichael,**_

_**This powder is only a preview of what hell is to come. Gotham will be ours to use, and you will watch painfully as every good, moral person is slowly hunted and killed.**_

_**Congratulations.**_

"Oh shit." She muttered in doubt.

"I want a picture taken and I want copies. As well, I want Commissioner Gordon notified of this threatening letter. Derek, can you handle keeping this a secret?"

He gulped, "Yes, Captain. I believe I can."

Regan signed out of the department without concern for the number of hours required for a work-day and drove back to the mansion. After she parked the car, she paused to check her appearance. Dark purple circles had formed under her eyes and her once healthy complexion had faded into an alabaster tone. These changes made her all the more irritable. Grabbing her bag, she exited the car and absentmindedly pocketed the keys. Knowing that she could confide in Alfred, she attempted to find him. Her calm footsteps morphed into short bursts of panicked sprints. "Alfred?" she yelled frantically. As she ran through the halls, her mental stability began to dwindle. Not looking where she was going, she slammed into somebody. As she lost her balance and fell, a pained grunt greeted her ears. Giving up, she didn't move. Fighting back tears, she closed her eyes.

Strong arms encompassed her and a smooth, familiar voice questioned, "Regan, are you alright?"

Biting her lip, she whimpered, "No." She could sense the concerned look on his face. "I—" Something snapped inside her. Violent tremors rolled through her. Bruce carefully picked her up and carried her to his room. "Alfred?" he questioned quietly.

"Yes, Master Bruce?"

"Grab me her pjs." The older man raised an eyebrow but complied. Regan's mind didn't register that Bruce changed her clothes, or that he was holding her tightly. Bruce listened to her intense muttering, "She is not a drug addict. How can that be? She was one; I swear. I saw the change. She was bipolar and scary. Riddles. So many riddles and double meanings. She's trying to kill me. They're going to take Gotham and make me watch. They're going to kill everyone, Mom, Dad, and Bruce. If I lose him, I'm gone." Her muttering turned incoherent. Gently rubbing her back, he cooed, "Regan, I'm not going anywhere. Shhh. It's alright. I can fix this."

His voice pulled her from the depths of hysteria, and each word became clearer. Gulping, she gazed up at him. His chocolate eyes pierced her, but at the same time, they had a comforting effect upon her. His hands wiped away her tears, and she felt a shiver run through her entire body.

Acknowledging that she was "awake" and attentive, he calmly stated, "Regan, I need to tell you something. It'll explain my behavior earlier. I live two lives."

Regan cocked her head in surprise at him. _'He's confessing?'_

"I am Batman." He searched her face for fear or a surprised expression but found nothing. "Bruce," she hoarsely whispered with a faint smile on her ashen face, "I knew you were Batman since last night. I followed Alfred into the cave. You needed a blood transfusion, so I gave you mine. I helped him carry you upstairs. You were cold, so I slept next to you. And know what? I'll do it again tomorrow night, because I love you."

Bruce closed his eyes in what looked like pain. She had heard what he had said the previous night, but the 'her' he referred to may not have been her. Regan felt her stomach drop. Was he going to reject her?

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_Please Review ( no flames please) Revised 6/08/10_


	11. Man's Measure of a Man Part B

_Disclaimer_: I do not own DC Comics or characters associated with DC. I only own my OC.

_A high five to those who reviewed_: Lisa Marie M., Fairy Skull, 'Meshi Shiroi', sjt1988, and Cybernetic Mango. (You guys are awesome!)

_Author's Note:_ Small Update. Enjoy.

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May be it was too early for her to declare her love for him. A measly five days together could not foster that type of bond, yet Regan felt no regret to what she had said. Every fiber in her being told her that she was right. She was in love with Bruce Wayne. What could she do? Ignore her gut? No. She admitted her love for him. Did he return any feelings toward her at all?

Pulling her closer, he replied, "I love you too." Relief swept through her as he cupped her face with his hands pressed his lips against hers. It was a short, polite kiss that quenched any doubt in Regan's mind.

"Bruce, it's my sister, isn't it?"

"Yes, she has a small army."

"What's her motive?" she questioned curiously.

"She's carrying on her fallen loves wish—total anarchy."

"Fallen, like dead?"

"No, jailed. Never to escape." He returned seriously.

"Oh, God, no. She was with him? I thought he…oh my God." She muttered in agony.

"You knew him?" he questioned exasperated.

"Oh, God, no. She mentioned him. She would act so weird after going on a date with him. It was like he slowly poisoned her. My parents and I thought drugs. How could I not see it? He ruined her."

"He ruined a lot of people. This isn't your fault." He sighed.

"I know but she's my sister."

"I have to stop her." Bruce asserted.

"We will and when we do—"

"I'm marrying you."

She grinned, "You move fast." They had been together five days—a work week, and he was discussing marriage. She easily pictured it. They fit together like pieces to a puzzle. Each personality complimented and meshed perfectly. This entire situation seemed unreal. How would her parents handle this? And Jillian or Mr. Fox? His marriage proposal seemed spur of the moment yet planned. How did he know that their relationship would work out perfectly?

"I know what I want and need and that's you. But before I can get what I want—I have to save Gotham."

"I wouldn't want it any other way."

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_I know it was short-my apologies. Next one should be longer. Please Review (no flames please)_


	12. Stories and the Suit

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own DC Comics or characters associated with DC. I only own my OC.

_Thunderous applause for those who reviewed : _'Meshi Shiroi', HCW, Fairy Skull, Cybernetic Mango, Lisa Marie M., Crissana Collins, and AyenWayne.

_Author's Note:_ My apologies for late posting of this chapter. Life, as usual, intervened—making an update near impossible, until now.

_Side Note:_ The dialogue in bold is from Batman Begins—I don't own that either.

_Enjoy._

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"Stop pacing, Bruce, please." Regan whispered tensely as she shifted nervously on the black leather sofa. He was making the situation worse. "Why?" he shot back. Regan raised an eyebrow. Only an hour after declaring their 'love' for one another, they were bickering.

"It's not going to help you figure anything out."

"Right, you're lecturing me on how to deduct a criminal's plan of action?"

"Are you questioning my ability to judge you on your deduction skills?" She countered annoyed.

"Yes. I've lived and breathed the criminal underground for years."

He turned his back to her. His comment silenced her. _'Bruce had been a criminal? But he's Batman. How?' _

Several minutes passed, and Regan's curiosity got the best of her. "You were a criminal?"

She heard him sigh. _'Crap, I made him even madder.'_ His stance slightly stiffened.

"I lived among them, and I witnessed the fine line between right and wrong.**' The first time I stole so that I wouldn't starve... And when I traveled, I learned the fear before a crime and the thrill of success. But I never became one of them'**."

"So let me get this straight. You immersed yourself into the criminal world, but you weren't one?" She was still confused. Riddles were not her favorite game.

"No. I paid the Chinese government to put me in prison so I could take them on. After a few years, I was approached by a man that offered me an opportunity to be more than what I was."

"And that man was?" She pressed in a soft tone. This was a whole new side of him, and the more she listened, the more she felt attached to him.

"Ra's Al Ghul. He wasn't the man I thought he was. After a couple of years of training, he said that I was ready to lead his men to Gotham—to destroy it. I refused and left. He came himself and brought his army. In his attempt to destroy Gotham, he released that fear inhalant in the Narrows."

She held her hands up in defeat. "I get it now, Bruce."

"You do?"

Regan was about to do something that she'd vowed she never do—admit that she didn't know everything.

"You're right. You do know more. You handled the Narrow's problem and the Joker's reign of terror. Who am I to judge you? Pace all you want."

He turned to face her, "You changed your mind?"

Shrugging, she stated, "Sure. You're the crime fighter. You know Gotham like the back of your hand."

Smirking, he took a seat beside her and whispered, "I win."

Astonishment flooded her system. "You did it on purpose?"

He threw his head back and laughed, "Of course, I never pace."

"I see." She muttered as she closed her eyes in humiliation. Losing wasn't her favorite past time. The game had been restarted, and he never told her. _'Men—go figure.'_

"Okay, so what happened after the fear inhalant was released?"

"You're asking for the long and non-condensed version, aren't you?" His smile faded.

There was a part of Regan that didn't want to know. She had her secrets, and he had his. She knew that Rachel and he were involved-ish and something happened to the mansion.

"Yes and no. I'm curious about the criminals, not your personal life. I've read the tabloids."

"Right, Arkham's worst were released into the Narrows, including the Joker. Explosions, etc. Ra's men burned down my house before they began to destroy Gotham."

"So that's why Alfred was so touchy when I asked about the garage being new? Huh."

"Yes, that incident is rather touchy. They burned down my house on my birthday."

Laying her head on his shoulder, she felt anger overwhelm her. "That's awful."

"Yes, but it gave me a chance to re-build and improve certain parts of the house." His tone was light again.

"Like the southeast corner of the mansion?"

"Precisely."

Rolling her eyes, she curled into a ball beside him. Bruce wrapped his arm around her and teased, "Sleepy, Regan?"

"Possibly, but I'm awake enough to know that you're waiting for something. What are you waiting for Bruce?"

"It's seven in the evening, Rae. I'm waiting for it to be later. Criminals usually wait for the cover of darkness."

"Alright, so what are we doing until then?"

"I like what we're doing right now." His answer was music to her ears.

"Bruce?" she squeaked.

"Hmm?"

"What is my sister planning?"

"I'm not entirely sure, but I know it's happening later tonight."

"Should I notify Gordon and have the force on alert?" She questioned as she pulled away from him.

"It couldn't hurt. Now, can you please sit back down and call in a calm manner. I was enjoying your warmth."

"Hmm, maybe." She purred. Confidently, Regan sat down on his lap and laid her head in the crook of his neck. As she pulled out her cell phone, his arms wove themselves around her.

"Hello, Dispatch? This is Captain Regan Carmichael. Can you patch me through to Commissioner Gordon?" She planted a kiss on her love's neck as she listened for dispatch to connect her.

_"Commissioner Gordon is in the middle of a call. Can you hold?"_

"Yes, I'll wait." She stated patiently into the receiver.

Glorified elevator music sounded from her cell phone. Sighing contently, she pressed her face into his neck and inhaled. Why did he have to smell so delicious? Fighting back her current mindset, she focused on the obnoxious music coming from the phone.

_"Commissioner Gordon."_

She snapped out of her stupor and fumbled her phone. Grasping it tightly, she smoothly asserted, "Yes, Sir. This is Captain Carmichael. I have received information from a reliable source that there will be attempts on police officers and precincts tonight. My source couldn't give me an exact time, but he was confident that it would be after dark. Have our men on high alert."

_"You said this source is reliable?"_ He sounded skeptical.

"Sir, I wouldn't have called you if he wasn't."

_"Can I have the name of this source?"_ Bruce cleared his throat in amusement. '_He always wants credit.'_ She thought with a faint smile.

"The Dark Knight, Sir. He believes that a new criminal has plans to continue what the Joker began. Just have the men notified."

_"Alright, Carmichael, if he says it; then there must be some truth to it. I'll alert the men."_

"Thank you, Sir. May I also request that SWAT be stationed below the department in case something happens? No need for the best to be taken down."

_"Sure thing, Captain. And do me a favor?"_

"Anything Sir." She replied breathlessly.

_"Tell the Knight that he's still okay in my book."_

"Will do. Goodnight, Commissioner."

_"Goodnight, Captain."_

Hanging up, she glanced up to see Bruce grinning satisfactorily.

"What?"

"Couldn't call me Batman? I had to be the Dark Knight?"

"The Dark Knight is a cooler title."

"Really?" He questioned intrigued.

"Yeah, it's darker. If I was a criminal, I'd be more fearful of the Dark Knight."

"Hmm, do you know why I called myself Batman in the first place?"

"No, I'm assuming it has something to do with fear." She replied thoughtfully.

"**Bats frighten me. It was time that my enemies shared my dread**."

"Huh. Bats are creepy, I'll give you that. Does the cave have them?"

"Of course."

She unconsciously shuddered. Picking up on her fear, he chided, "Would you like to see them?"

Regan froze. Her breathing halted. Did she want to go back to the cave? She'd seen it once. However, that was when it was pitch black, and he was dying. Fear. Regan rarely felt that mindset, and for some reason, she felt it now. Was it because she was going to see what he feared? No, she was afraid of seeing his mask. He'd be different when he'd put it on.

"Ok." She agreed as she climbed out of his lap. What was she getting herself into?

Nodding, he motioned for her to follow.

The cave was dark as they entered. He left her side momentarily to turn on the dim lights. As the lights revealed the cave's jagged, dark architecture and its other occupants, Regan shivered. There were thousands of them sleeping soundly. "Do they attack?" She hoarsely asked.

He quietly laughed, "No, no. They're harmless. Good company when Alfred is away."

"I see. You do know that we need a plan." Regan asserted as she gazed at the collage of high tech scanning equipment. The computer montage was stunning. Live video feeds were recording known criminal areas. She was impressed by his set up.

"You mean, I need a plan. It's too dangerous. You're staying here with Alfred." Bruce returned boldly as he folded his arms over his chest.

"Right, like I'm going to just sit here in this grimy cave waiting for you. Let me do this. She's my sister. My responsibility." Regan pleaded as she returned her attention to him. Her light eyes looked intently into his dark ones.

"No, you're not supposed to take this risk. This is my burden." He murmured as he began to pull out various tools and gadgets. Her eyes scanned the massive drawers; there were hundreds of grappler guns, mini bombs, and bat-a-rangs.

"I'm a cop. I took an oath to protect this city. Just let me do my job." She stated as she watched him. His preparation made her antsy.

"Please, Regan. I'm not strong enough to lose you."

"Fine." She conceded due to his depressed, desperate tone. He opened a tall steel box that resembled an armory. One might consider what was inside a weapon—the Bat Suit.

He stared at it for several seconds before he tore off his shirt and jeans, leaving only his tank and boxers. Alfred mysteriously stepped out of the shadows and silently assisted the Dark Knight into the suit. Regan gazed into the armory look-a-like and counted over 150 parts of the suit. Each part clicked into place. The clicks made Regan ill. She knew that she'd have to get used to this. This noise would be a common occurrence. It took Alfred and Bruce over an hour to put together the suit. "What's it made of?" She shot over her shoulder as she took a seat in front of the giant computer collection.

"The suit's made of hardened Kevlar plates on a titanium clipped fiber—helps me be more flexible and mobile." He replied as he placed his gadgets into his utility belt. She noted how the suit had many gaps between the Kevlar plates. "Aren't you more vulnerable to injury from bullets or knives?"

Alfred cut in, "Yes, but it's worth the increased flexibility." She nodded in response. It made sense, and Bruce knew what he was doing.

As he placed the cowl on, she interrupted, "Wait." He paused, confused by her sudden outburst. Walking timidly toward him, Regan held a grim expression.

"Be careful." She whispered as she lightly kissed his lips. He didn't reply. After placing his cowl on, he swiftly slid into his car and left the solemn cave.

Regan and Alfred shared a look of amusement. "Alfred, I need a favor." She stated with a twinkle in her eye.

"Depends." Alfred returned coyly.

"I need a bulletproof vest and a mini microphone."

"That I can do. Are you disregarding his wishes?"

"Just this once." She replied confidently.

"Is this going to get you killed?"

"No, Mercedes needs to be distracted, so Bruce can take her out. Trust me; I know what I'm doing."

"What are you doing exactly?"

"Nothing," she mumbled as she ran toward the elevator.

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_Please Review ( no flames please) Revised 6/08/10_


	13. InComplete Darkness

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own DC Comics or characters associated with DC. I only own my OC.

_Pat on the back for those who reviewed_: InSixGlasses, 'Meshi Shiroi', LaughingAngelsGibberish, Fairy Skull, and Crissana Collins.

_Author's Note_: This chapter runs parallel with the previous chapter.

* * *

The sun had rapidly disappeared leaving the slums in complete darkness. Nonetheless, the moon appeared to illuminate parts of Gotham. In the Narrows, off Market Street, a group of men gathered and spoke in loud tones.

"Easy boys, we don't wanna attract the Bat." A badly bruised Joe Bocchieri hissed. He knew he was on thin ice, squealing to the Bat and all, but the boss seemed amused rather than angry. Bocchieri shook his head. The men went silent.

"We're just waiting for the message. That it. No need to advertise our business, you imbeciles." He continued thoughtlessly. A car backfired, and the entire group jumped.

"Easy fellas, just a car backfiring." Travers whispered in a high-pitched tone. The fear in his eyes told the men near him to be weary. Travers silently thanked the gods that the 'lady in charge' had got them out of jail to pull this job. This job had a sinister aura, Travers was unsure about himself having enough gall to handle the evil embedded in this plot. He didn't even really know the plot, but he did know the nature: wicked.

Bocchieri shifted his weight and scanned the corner. He eyed an older homeless woman sifting through garbage. She wore frumpy jeans and an old Gotham Knights football jersey stained with what looked like food and dirt. Her face was covered by the shadows, but her red hair was unmistakeably wild and dirty. "Don't mind the old broad. She's just surviving." He announced. The woman never looked up, she just continued grabbing cans, and she occasionally muttered something unintelligible.

A dark blue Mercedes pulled up to the corner. Bocchieri approached but quickly backed up. The unseen passenger dropped a cigarette carton in the gutter, and the car sped away.

Lifting the carton from the dingy gutter, Bocchieri sharply inhaled, "Alright, boys, this is it. We take out the city's power and security. She says she'll do the rest." Hastily, the men scattered to their various positions throughout the city.

Travers stole a glance toward the homeless woman. To his surprise, she was gone. Not a trace. Already spooked by the darkness, he scurried toward his assignment.

Battered Joe, on the other hand, meandered through the onyx streets. He embraced the unknown. His time was finally coming. After walking a block or two, he stopped at an unmarked apartment, knocked in three increments of six, and gained entrance. "You sent them?" an icy voice with an intrigued tone questioned.

"Yes, ma'am." He returned humbly.

"Excellent." The voice he finally get his reward that she promised? Bocchieri's eyes dilated, "Wait. You still need me."

"No, I don't."

BANG

His body fell to the floor.

"Move out and leave no trace." The voice commanded.

* * *

Meanwhile, Travers headed to the outskirts of the business district. "I can do this." He promised himself. Spying a group of teenagers, Travers decided to begin the reign of terror. "Hey! You guys!" he hollered as he approached them. Two boys from the group gazed over at him with confused expressions.

"Do we know you?" A tall, burly boy questioned. He was dressed in all black and his brown eyes screamed danger, but Travers paid no heed to the unsaid warning.

Smiling widely, he returned, "Nope, and right now, you're gonna regret ever meeting me."

A muscular blonde boy flanked the burly one and tauntingly replied, "Who do you think you are? The Joker?" He was similiarly dressed to the burly one, but he wore a huge parka making him look larger than he really was.

Travers laughed hysterically at the two before pulling a semi-automatic revolver. The teens eyes widened in fear.

"No, we're sorry. Please don't." the blonde one pleaded. Travers faintly heard a girl's voice exclaim, "It's the sign. Do it Samantha."

"Sorry, kid." He chided. The boy closed his eyes in acceptance of his fate. Traver's hand tightened around the gun. _'Do it.'_

A single shot rang out. Travers fell face first, and the group took off toward the police station.

"Who shot him?" a skinny brunette questioned breathlessly.

"Samantha." The blonde answered deadpanned.

Upon them entering the precinct, they were greeted with darkness. The power was out and backup generators had not powered up fully.

"Can I help you?" a patrolman asked calmly.

"Yeah, we'd like to report a shooting." The burly boy stated seriously.

"Okay. Where? When? And who?"

"Here, now, you." The blonde one answered as he pulled out an automatic rifle from his parka.

* * *

_I know what you're thinking: teenagers taking over a precinct is impossible. For the sake of my imagination, let's run with it. :)_

_Please Review. (No flames please) Revised 6/08/10_


	14. Where Darkness Meets Light

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own DC Comics or characters associated with DC. I only own my OC.

_Special thanks to those who reviewed!_

_Author's Note:_ I hope you enjoy the chapter.

* * *

The teenagers brought the patrolman to his knees, and the blonde boy motioned for the other teens to sweep the precinct. Panicked shouts could be heard throughout the division. Whipping out a walkie talkie, the blonde menacingly stated, "Precinct eight taken."

_8:30 PM_

Batman swiftly drove through the city streets searching for Mercedes henchmen for tonight was the night that they would be mobilized. His police scanner picked up, "10-4! Hostile take-over of precinct 13. Anyone out there? Back up needed! Help!" Bursts of gunfire could be heard in the background. Swerving into a side street, he placed his vehicle in stealth mode and silently drove to the call. As he drove, more distress calls flooded the air waves. Sighing heavily, he began the task of freeing the important divisions—mainly headquarters. Every suspect would have some information about Mercedes. Enough suspects would provide enough information. Eventually, he would know where Mercedes was.

_11:30 PM_

"The plan is in motion. If only my babbykins could have been here to see this," cackled a woman with white face make-up and eccentric clothing. Pacing in a faded red and yellow jumpsuit, the once tanned blonde listened to each precinct being taken and giggled in triumph. The old warehouse headquarters heaved at the gale force winds rolling off the bay. Shrieking in fear, the woman hid behind a withered desk. Hesitantly one man with dark eyes and go-tee questioned, "Are you alright?"

Stunned she straightened up, "Yes. I was just startled."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Come now, Ross. Call me by my real name." she cooed.

Gulping the man corrected himself, "Yes, Miss Quinn."

"Good job sporto. Go back to the group now, please." She chided with a grin spreading across her face. Miss Quinn listened to the howling winds and became slightly stoic. "I hate storms." She muttered. He'd come eventually; this weather suited him.

"Don't we all?" Rasped a voice from the shadows.

"Oh, Batman! We finally meet! My lover has told me all about you!" She screeched with unnerving happiness. The dark voice didn't answer. The generators suddenly shut off, cueing the men to draw their weapons.

"Easy boys, I want to play with him a bit." She beamed lovingly. As seconds passed by, the once bubbly leader turned impatient. "Where are you?" _'Isn't he here? Why isn't he engaging?'_

Loud banging noises sounded from the entrance. "Answer it." She hissed violently. One man hastily ran to the door.

Upon opening it, a young woman with bruises and torn clothing rushed in screaming, "He's gonna kill me! O my God! Stop him! Please…" Her red hair was stuck to her face from the free flowing tears. She was drenched in mud.

Miss Quinn sauntered toward the sobbing girl. "Aww, honey, what happened?" She asked in a hushed, sadistic tone.

Never looking up, the girl sobbed, "He, he pulled me over—and told me—oh my God. He's coming for you."

Amused, the leader questioned, "Who is?" _'Is this a joke? How could someone be so scared?'_

"The…the…" she never finished. Quinn slapped her gloved hand over her mouth. "Shh. He's already here." _'He's using her to scare me and my men. He's never played dirty before.'_ Removing her hand, the unconventional woman glanced about. No members of her protection squad remained. "Well, it's just like men to run away."She mused to the still sobbing girl.

"That means we're alone." The girl whispered.

"Why yes, that's true. Pardon me for being rude. I'm Harley Quinn." The blonde offered sarcastically as she drew a knife. _'No witnesses left behind.'_

"Oh, I believe we've met." The bruised redheaded girl menaced as she climbed to her feet.

"Really?"

"Oh yes. Just today." Drawing a gun, the once hysterical young woman fixed the muzzle toward Harley.

"You're name? I'm still lost." Harley yawned.

"Detective Regan Carmichael, oh, you're not really Harley, are you? At least that's not your God-given name is it, Mercedes?" The detective pulled the redhead wig off, and Harley growled.

"I want him." She snarled.

"Batman? No, no. You picked a fight with your big sister first. Trying to kill me by letter was a nice touch. But, honestly, this isn't you. What did he convince you to take?"

"Nothing that I didn't want to. I love him." She snapped as she dropped her steak knife.

"But he doesn't love you. He loved playing the game with Batman. And now, you're trying to play the game and failing miserably."

"Not uh. I played the game just fine. Wait, how did you find me?" she moaned in annoyance.

"Your foot soldiers underestimated an old homeless woman."

"What?" she boomed as SWAT flooded the warehouse. "This isn't over! The game has just begun!" She screamed while she was being handcuffed.

"No, Mercedes. It's the end, and you lost." Regan replied darkly. This was her cold-hearted goodbye to a woman she thought she knew. There were no words to describe Regan's innate want to protect her younger sister and fix this. But she couldn't fix it. Mercedes would join her demented lover at Arkham Asylum. Maybe treatment could help her. Doubt clouded her mind.

"Why wasn't the SWAT team taken hostage?" Mercedes murmured as an officer led her to a police cruiser.

"They're located underneath the DC Department and were notified the minute your men attacked. I was able to get them to follow me and well, here we are."

Mercedes closed her eyes in defeat, "Lead and antidepressants mixed with cocaine." Regan fixed her eyes on her sister. There was no coming back from the damage done to her brain. This was the final time Regan would see her. Regan vowed to never allow her parents to see Mercedes like this. It would break her mother's heart.

The door of the cruiser slammed shut, and Regan ruefully watched her younger sister disappear in a squad car.

"Good work, Detective. You are hereby promoted to Lieutenant." Commissioner Gordon beamed.

"Sir, is this the appropriate time? We just apprehended Harley Quinn—the Joker's girlfriend." Regan didn't understand his methods at all, but she respected him. _'Promotion now? That means more work.'_

"Yes. It's not official, but you'll be medaled for this." He shouted over his shoulder as he walked toward the press waiting outside. The press would be her one condition. She would accept this promotion on the grounds that she would never have to hold a press conference.

Glancing about, Regan spotted a dark shadow in the far corner. Moving to where the darkness met the light, she stated, "I have to fill out paperwork. I'll be home late. Don't worry."

The shadow pulled her in. "I'll pick you up around four—that's my last check before heading in." He rasped.

"Alright. Are you okay?" She whispered as her hand touched his shoulder.

"Few bruises. No gunshots."

"Good. See you in about two hours."

As she turned to leave, he grasped her wrist and growled, "Wait."

"Yes?"

He kissed her passionately. Heat flooded her, and she knew that she needed to be focused on the situation surrounding them.

When she pulled away, Regan found herself alone. "No using that trick at home."

* * *

_Please Review (No flames please)Revised 6/09/10_


	15. Steel and Dirty Lies

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own DC Comics or characters associated with DC. I only own my OC.

_A big smile to those who reviewed:_ 'Meshi Shiroi', Fairy Skull, and LaughingAngelsGibberish.

_Author's Note:_ This chapter just came to me, so I thought I would share it with you. It's fluff and drama. Sweet, right? Enjoy!

* * *

Stretching from her sleep, Regan instantly recanted her thoughts of getting up. Instead, she cuddled into her fiancé's side. His body heat felt pleasant. What time had he gotten home? As usual, she had gone to bed by herself and mentally waited for him. She never attained deep sleep until she knew he was home safe.

It had been two months since Mercedes had been taken in, and they had yet to announce their relationship to the public. Either they were too busy or desperately wanted a peaceful home life. Regan felt ashamed for she hadn't even told Jillian about the relationship. Bruce seemed content on keeping their bond secret. Surprisingly, the press hadn't put the pieces together. She thought they would since they could be seen together at every gala, ball, dinner, and outing. This situation was very simple yet complex.

She felt him wrap his arms around her and pull her closer. Subconsciously her right hand traced one of his many scars on his chest. "You need to go to work, it's almost seven." His deep voice stated quietly.

"No, I'd rather lay here with you." She returned as she wrapped her right leg around his.

He chuckled, "Regan, duty calls. Your Dad will suspect something's up if you don't show up."

"How does that matter? He already thinks we're sleeping together." She replied with a smirk.

"Why does he think that? We're sleeping together but not in that regard." He questioned as his hand gently rubbed her upper back.

"Well, I called him the morning after you'd been shot by Bocchieri's men. I was whispering, so you wouldn't wake up. He asked me why I was whispering, and I told him you were sleeping. He assumed."

"You didn't think to clarify?" Bruce asked annoyed.

"No, not at the time. And he hasn't implied anything. He trusts us. He hasn't told my mother, so obviously it's not a big deal. Who isn't assuming that?" She returned amused.

"Fine. If the press catches wind, you're dealing with it. Not me." He offered as his hand caressed her face.

"Alright, that's fair. But tell me, when are we going public?" She reasoned/asked.

"When we're both professionally ready for it. You're still adjusting to your new position in the department, and I'm closing a deal with Apple. We should wait until everything meshes." He asserted as he pressed his lips lightly on hers.

"Oh, I wanted to run something by you." Regan stated offhandedly.

"Okay, shoot." He murmured as he kissed her neck.

"Well, Jillian's pregnant. She's having a baby shower in a couple of days. I was hoping you'd come with me. I don't want to go back to DC by myself."

"Hmm," came a muffled reply as his hands moved her head to the side. He continued his exploration of her neck.

Attempting to focus, she asked, "I'm taking that as a yes, Bruce." His lips claimed her mouth, and she immediately responded. He intoxicated her. How was she supposed to function after this? She opened her eyes and spotted large gashes on his right bicep. They looked like dog bites. Trying not to picture the dogs attacking him, she let her hands intertwine in his hair as he hovered above her. She pulled away and looked up. His eyes screamed desire and that's when she knew to draw the line. "I should get to work, and you should go back to bed."

"Change of heart? I thought you wanted to stay home with me." He challenged, pleased.

"I changed my mind." She returned as she untangled herself from him and headed toward the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, she returned fully dressed in Louis Vuitton wool capri pants, a gray plaid cashmere and silk knot sweater, wool hacking jacket, and black Dior Jazz club pumps. Her hair was pulled into a low loose bun giving him the impression that she didn't have a meeting today. "I do have a meeting, but it's not until eleven. I'm calling Jillian to RSVP. I'll be home at five. I love you." She announced as she kissed his cheek. "Go back to sleep, babe. Mr. Fox isn't expecting you until at least ten."

She left the room noiselessly and headed toward the kitchen.

Alfred already had toast and OJ waiting for her. "Thanks Alfred. Make sure Bruce stays in bed until at least nine. He doesn't have to be there until ten."

"I shall. When should I expect you home?"

"Around five."

"Very well." He answered with his eyes fixated on the television. Intrigued, Regan turned the volume up.

_"This is Ann Daniels reporting live from Gotham's Fine Arts Museum. It appears that three dangerous fugitives were discovered tied up and gagged by the morning set up crew. The police are giving credit for this arrest to Batman who is still wanted by the police for questioning in the Harvey Dent suicide. _

_On another note, who is in charge of the newest drug and violence task force? Commissioner Gordon released this comment, 'Lieutenant Regan Carmichael will be in charge of this twenty man crew. Their primary goal is to apprehend the most wanted criminals in Gotham.' _

_When he was asked about Batman, he responded, 'The task force is not designed to take him down. Their focus is lowering the crime rate by pulling drug dealers and gang members off the street. Batman is a completely different animal, but if they are presented with the opportunity, they'd take him out immediately.' This is Ann Daniels. Drew, back to you."_

"He wishes. I will never allow that to happen. Luckily, I get to pick my men." She murmured, and Alfred only smirked. Bruce's secret was safe with her in charge. Even Commissioner Gordon didn't want him apprehended. Every comment made was due to politics.

Regan took her last swig of OJ, went to the garage, and climbed in her pearl SLR McLaren Roadster. A gift from her Father for absolutely no reason at all, it was the best material gift she had received thus far.

Pulling out of the garage, she stated, "Call Jillian." The car automatically complied and ringing could be heard.

_"Hello?"_ Jillian answered softly.

"Hey, Jill. Sorry if I woke you and Kyle up." Regan returned ashamed.

_"No, I was awake. What's up?"_

"I'm RSVPing for the shower and I'm bringing a guest."

_"Really? You're coming! Kyle, guess what? Regan's coming to the shower."_ She could hear him mumble a 'woohoo.' _"Kyle's excited. Wait, did you say guest?"_

"Well, yes, Jillian I did. There was an option on the invitation. I don't want to fly to DC by myself." Regan replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

_"Is this said guest tall, dark, and handsome?"_ Jillian fished with eagerness.

"Jillian, you'll have to wait and see. Anyways, where are you registered? This child is going to be spoiled rotten by his rich Aunt."

_"I'm registered at Baby Gap and Baby's 'R US, and since when are you rich?"_

"Since I'm an executive at Carmichael Industries." She smartly returned as she got onto the freeway.

_"Holy shit. When did this happen?"_ Jillian cried out in astonishment.

"Hmm, about a month after the Wayne deal was finalized. Mr. Masen retired, and my Dad promoted me. Plus, I've been promoted at Gotham PD; I'm now officially Lieutenant Carmichael of the new Drug and Violence Task Force. It never ends, Jillian."

_"Wow, you're in the fast lane. My God, how's Bruce handling this?"_

"He's just as busy as me. We talk when we can."

_"So you're not together?"_ Jillian returned doubtful.

"Umm, I can't say we are or aren't. We haven't discussed it." _'Lie.'_

_"Liar! You're a dirty liar Regan Carmichael. Spill it. Now."_ Jillian snapped into the receiver.

"Calm down, please, Jillian. I just can't discuss it now. When I get there, we'll talk extensively."

_"Fine. You're together aren't you? I bet you guys even sleep in the same bed. Regan, I want the entire story when you get here. "_

"Deal. And where I sleep is none of your business."

_"Uh huh, I have to get to work. Be good Regan."_

"You too. Keep Kyle in check."

_Click._

Jillian knew too much, that much was certain. Regan laughed at herself for worrying about Jillian saying something. Bruce was better at being cryptic; her approach had always been upfront and honest. Everything had to change.

After parking in her reserved spot, Regan entered the building and nonchalantly entered the elevator. The frenzy of her arrival had died out about three weeks ago, and now Regan could come and go as she pleased.

Upon reaching her floor, Regan stepped out and was greeted by a flash. "Miss Carmichael, could you comment on your promotion at Gotham PD?"

Her eyes adjusted, and she spied a rather tall, well-built man with a pad of paper and pen waiting for her response. His dark rimmed glasses hid his rather large, pinpoint eyes.

"I beg your pardon. This is a private company, and I'm currently here to work. Contact Commissioner Gordon about press releases. Now, please leave before I have to call security."

"Miss, I'm not from Gotham papers. I'm Clark Kent of the Dailey Planet." He pleaded.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Kent, but I have work to attend to. The only statement I can give is that I'm looking forward to running the task force. Now if you would excuse me." Regan replied indifferently.

"Thanks, ma'am."

"Right." She threw over her shoulder. Charlotte smiled apologetically and attempted to explain why she allowed him entrance, "I'm sorry, Miss Carmichael."

"No press, Charlotte. Okay? I hate them." The executive muttered bitterly.

"I understand. This will never happen again. Anyways, here's your coffee and newspaper."

"Thanks, Charlotte. Can you grab me the information on Microsoft's proposition?"

"Yes, ma'am. Oh, and Mr. Wayne called just before you came in. He wanted to confirm that the meeting is at eleven."

"I told him noon."

"I tried explaining that to him, but he insisted that eleven would be better."

"I have a meeting with Mr. Carmichael at eleven." Regan stated annoyed.

"I'll call Wayne Enterprises right away."

"Good." Regan replied in a dismissive tone. Charlotte took her leave, and Regan immediately let out a frustrated sigh. Why did men always have to be so stubborn? Her father insisted an eleven o'clock meeting. Now Bruce did too? Was it a ploy? Regan shook her head at the thought; though, it would be in both men's natures to do so. Shrugging, Regan downed a cup of coffee and immediately headed toward the research sector to pour some more. She faintly heard Charlotte arguing, "I'm sorry, Don, but Miss Carmichael has a meeting scheduled for that time. The earliest I can do is eleven-thirty."

"No! What do you mean he's coming now?" Charlotte bolted for Regan and practically yelled, "Miss Carmichael, Bruce Wayne is on his way now. He said it was urgent." Gulping, Regan nodded in understanding, "Be ready. The minute he gets here, usher him into my office. No one is allowed up here. Understood?"

"Yes. No visitors. I got it."Charlotte confirmed. Regan expected her to salute or something. Regan left her in the hallway, grabbed a second cup of coffee, and returned to her office. Contemplating about Bruce's urgency, Regan became lost in her thoughts. So much so that she didn't notice that he'd enter.

"Regan," he breathed.

"Yes, Mr. Wayne. What can I do for you?" She replied automated.

"Your task force is going to hunt me?" he hissed in a low tone.

She frowned and whispered back, "Not if I can help it. I specifically told Gordon that I would have no part in helping them capture you. If anything, I would do everything in my power to keep you away from them. Gordon doesn't even want you. He's playing politics. Honestly, Bruce, you think I would do that?"

Her eyes betrayed her. They readily showed her hurt feelings. He closed his eyes in abashment. "Regan, I'm sorry. I heard the news, and I didn't think everything through. I'm not used to sharing secrets with people." This entire discussion seemed out of his character. Something was on his mind, distracting him from common sense.

"I know, Bruce," she replied as she stood up and walked up to him—face to face. "But you are no longer alone. There are two of us. I would never betray you, and I'm sure the same applies with you toward me. Now, we're going to discuss business, so I can successfully have a meeting with my Father at eleven." He kissed her gently yet fervently. Blushing, she pulled away and returned to her desk. They had never shown each other affection at work. She assumed it was an unwritten rule, but apparently Bruce is full of surprises.

"Business," he stated somberly.

"Yes, we can't very well do what you want here. I have employees and such watching my every move. We don't need any more implications."

"Very true. Anyways, your deal with Microsoft is a no go." He shot at her with a cocky smile.

"And why is that?"

"The DA would go after us for having a monopoly on the markets. I just made a deal with Apple, Microsoft's major competitor. If you joined up with Microsoft, and our agreement is still sound, we'd have too much power. Regan, you can't do it. "

Smiling she replied, "Who said I was actually going to go through with it? Dad wanted a closer look at their partners. We decided that we'd go after the partners and have our hand in them. They control Microsoft. If we took them, we'd silently control them."

"Well, I underestimated you. That plan is very cunning. And the DA won't see this as a monopoly?"

"No, because the CEOs will remain in place. We'll just have an unwritten understanding. We're not going to actually buy anyone. We're going to employ the services they offer."

"That's more I like it, Miss Carmichael." He chortled and then added, "On a lighter note, the Man of Steel is in Gotham to get the inside scoop on you."

"No thanks." She muttered, "I hate the press." He waited for her to process it.

"No, Bruce. I don't want to face Superman. Wait, I already have. He was here this morning, wanting a comment about my promotion. I told him that I was excited end of story. He left, right? He's not watching us is he?"

"How would I know that?" he teased.

"Because you know practically everything except when it comes to me. Oh, I called Jillian and RSVP. She's excited to meet the mystery man in my life."

"Oh, so you didn't tell her?" He questioned surprised.

"Nope, you told me to keep it a secret, and I obeyed. Imagine that." She taunted.

"Yeah, that's a shocker. Any ways, no, he's not watching us. He doesn't cheat on stories. He's an old school journalist."

"I see, so should I just spill my guts?" she laughed.

He glared, "That's not funny. Some of your guts are my guts."

"Sweetheart, I wouldn't tell the meathead a damn thing. Now, I have work to do and so do you. Go assist Mr. Fox with running your company."

"I'd rather stay here with you."

"I bet you would, Mr. Wayne." Mr. Carmichael chimed in as he entered her office. "Unfortunately, I need to go over the final details of our little endeavor. I'm sure that she has briefed you."

"Mr. Carmichael, good to see you again. Yes, Regan did mention your plan. I find it very creative."

"Thank you for the compliment, Mr. Wayne. Now, that I have both of you here. I can speak my mind. So far, your relationship hasn't interfered with any business, but the minute it does, I'm blowing the whistle. Furthermore, the whole idea of you two having sex so soon scares me."

"Dad, we're not having sex. I was simply lying next to him. We share a bed, but not in that way."

He turned red. "My apologies to both of you, I assumed." He fumbled.

"I told you that you should have clarified," Bruce whispered in Regan's ear.

"Whatever. Dad, it's fine. Is that why you called the meeting?"

"Yes, I needed to get both of you alone. A business meeting was the perfect ploy."

Bruce laughed heartily, "Mr. Carmichael, I'm glad that you have this much concern about your daughter. Let me assure you; I have no ill intentions. I'm head over heels for this woman." Regan grinned at his statement. "The feeling's mutual."

"Regan, take the rest of the morning off. I'll finalize the plan. Why don't you head over to Wayne Enterprises and look at their new toys?" The old man's eyes danced with mischief.

"Sure, Dad. I'll go and have a look. What do you say, Bruce?"

"Sure, why not?" He shrugged. The top executive left the couple alone causing the two to burst into laughter.

"Your Dad is wonderful." Bruce asserted as he kissed her neck.

"I know. Now, why don't you show me those toys at Wayne Enterprises?"

"Yeah, I'll meet you there, okay?" He kissed her cheek and exited her office. Regan gathered her things, locked her office, and announced, "I'm off on a fieldtrip for the rest of the day. Charlotte, direct the important calls to my cell phone, but only the important ones."

The blonde bobbed her head in agreement.

Eagerly, she headed for her car. Unfortunately, she spotted the reporter from earlier waiting for her.

"Excuse me, this parking lot is for personnel only." She stated disturbed.

"I know, Miss Carmichael, but I just need a moment of your time."

"Look, Mr. Kent, I have an extremely important business meeting in ten minutes. What is your one question?" She overly emphasized the word one.

Grinning, he asked, "What is the nature of relationship with Bruce Wayne?" Regan felt like she was stabbed all over again. The moment that she had nightmares about had finally come. What would Bruce do? A lump developed in her throat, but she managed to snap, "I'm not entirely sure at what you're getting at, Mr. Kent. But right now, I have a meeting to attend to. I would suggest a meeting with Wayne. He seems to have answers for the press where I do not."

Calmly she climbed into her SLR, started the engine, and left the garage. Paranoid, she checked her rearview mirror more than necessary. Luckily, it was a short drive to Wayne Enterprises. She hastily parked in the visitor parking, entered the building, and immediately rushed toward the elevators. Pressing the button for the top floor, Regan heaved a sigh of relief as the elevator remained vacant and climbed to the top.

Upon exiting, she spotted Don, Mr. Fox's assistant. "Don, where's Mr. Wayne?"

"His office, ma'am. He just got in."

"Tell him I'm here, please." She commanded animatedly.

The assistant dialed in, "Sir, Miss Carmichael is here."

Glancing up, he stated, "Mr. Wayne will see you now."

Regan opened the door and speedily entered. "Bruce, he won't leave me alone." Looking up from a report that Mr. Fox had just handed him, Bruce questioned protectively, "What do you mean?"

Mr. Fox watched the two from the corner of the room. "He was at my car. He asked about you. I told him that I didn't know what he was getting at, and that he should talk to you."

"He crossed the line." He growled. Regan walked toward him with fear in her eyes. Standing up from his desk, he met her half way and hugged her. "He's not going to bother you again. I'll take care of him."

"Bruce, what do you mean?"

"Superman's getting a visitor tonight." He replied in a hushed, harsh tone. His phone rang. "Mr. Fox, speaker please."

"Yes, Mr. Wayne."

"Sir, there is a Mr. Kent here to see you." Bruce smirked.

"Send the bastard in." He snapped. Releasing Regan, he returned to his desk. As the door opened, he simultaneously asked, "The deal is extended Miss Carmichael. Thanks for dropping by on such short of notice. Ahh, Mr. Kent, come in. We were just finishing up some paperwork."

He was acting. Regan thought that if he wasn't a businessman, being an actor would work for him. He kept his eyes empty, and his voice clear.

"Yes, Mr. Wayne. Thank you for seeing me, Miss Carmichael directed me to you."

"Oh, really? She never mentioned it. What information do you need?" He returned surprised. _'Give him an Oscar.'_

"Yes, well, I would like to inquire about the nature of your relationship with Miss Carmichael." He stated confidently.

"I see. Well, I don't see how that is any of your business. And I can't see why you need to know that when you're currently doing a piece on her promotion, not her love life." Bruce answered acidly.

Kent fidgeted with his glasses and pressed, "But it does matter. If you two are involved romantically, then her promotion affects you."

Bruce stood up and walked toward the man. "Mr. Kent, your piece is on how she obtained the promotion. Her love life doesn't fit into that circle."

"Mr. Wayne, I know you two are involved romantically. You attend galas, dinners, etc. together—"

"Have I ever kissed, hugged, or touched her in a romantic way?" Bruce questioned.

"Not that I can prove…"

"So we could be just friends attending social functions?"

"Why yes, I suppose so." The man conceded. _'Shouldn't have admitted that.'_ Regan thought cynically.

"Then why ask this question if there is no evidence to back it up?" Bruce finished darkly.

"Mr. Wayne, I need you to stop dancing around the question."

Bruce's temper was on the verge of breaking. Regan hastily intervened, "Enough, both of you. Mr. Kent, you answered the question yourself. No evidence, no relationship. Mr. Wayne, your point has been made."

"Is that your statement?" The Man of Steel seethed. His accusation hit a nerve.

Glaring, Regan hissed, "Yes, damn it. Now, get the hell out." Astonished, the man took a step back and growled, "This isn't your office. You just assumed control, meaning you're comfortable enough to dismiss people here, ergo relationship. "

She snapped, "Look, Bruce and I are long time friends. I would never order out a client of his or anyone else for that matter. Just you, you piece of crap. You're part of the press. You will never understand the meaning of privacy or how valuable it is. Now, get out."

Regan turned her back to him and sulked toward the window. The Man of Steel knew he'd gone too far. Glancing at Bruce whose eyes were narrowed in disgust, the man noiselessly left the room.

Softening, Bruce turned his attention to his love, "Rae, are you alright?"

"No." She squeaked. He knew she'd bounce back; she was having a weak moment. "Darling, you did wonderful. You didn't even need me."

"He went too far. I almost lost control. I never lose control. Why couldn't you just kick his ass and end the discussion?"

Booming laughter erupted from the two men, and Bruce commented, "I can't kick every ass that hurts you Rae."

Pouting, she swiveled to face them, "I wish you could."

Chuckling, he pulled her into another hug and kissed her forehead. "Now, he's handled. Do you want to see the gadgets or would you rather go for coffee?"

He knew all too well that she'd choose coffee. "Coffee, please."

Nodding, he threw over his shoulder as he ushered her out, "Call me if you need me."

"Will do, Mr. Wayne." The older man replied with a laugh. His plan had worked. The only casualty was his daughter's relationship with the famed lieutenant. Jena felt miserable about the entire fight, and Regan just ignored the problem. He couldn't find a solution for either party. Each had other problems to deal with.

Regan relaxed in the loud coffee shop located within Wayne Enterprises while Bruce smirked at her.

"Yes, Mr. Wayne?" She asked as she took a sip of her medium café latte.

"I was thinking about Jillian's pregnancy. If you're the Aunt, does that make me the uncle?" he quizzed thoughtfully.

"Would you like to have that title? It's currently open." She chuckled.

"Possibly, what duties are involved in this uncle role?"

"You spoil the kid rotten." She answered with a grin.

"That seems too easy." He concluded with feign surprise.

"Well, you have to be friends with the parents." She added with a laugh.

"You already have that department covered."

"Hmm, I do, don't I?" She mused.

"If I want this title, who do I see about this?"

"Well, the Aunt and the parents."

"Well, Aunt, may I have the title of uncle?"

"Yes, of course."

"Can I suggest a condition?"

"Oh? And that would be?"

"I want you to wear this ring." He pulled out a box, and opened it to reveal a beautiful diamond ring with a platinum band.

"Bruce," she gasped. He was giving her a ring? So soon? She was speechless.

"Is that a no?" he questioned apprehensively.

"Yes. Yes. Why in hell would I say no? Yes." She whispered.

He grinned widely, "I thought so."

"Bruce, it's beautiful. Is that why you were so preoccupied in my office and extremely affectionate this morning?"

Ignoring her question, he lifted her left hand, kissed it, and slipped the ring on her ring finger. Furiously blushing, she felt her eyes water.

"Are you crying?" he questioned concerned.

"I'm fine, just overwhelmed."

She never pictured his proposal like this, but it suited him wonderfully. It wasn't extravagant, yet it was mindful and creative. _'He always has perfect timing.'_ His thumbs rubbed circles on her hands. "Bruce, I believe that you lied to me this morning."

"Oh?"

"You told me that we were waiting until everything 'meshes.'" She mocked.

"We mesh fine. I just had to make you think we weren't ready. Now, when would you like to announce this?"

"How about after the Jill's shower? I don't want to steal her thunder."

"That's fine. You're running this show, remember? The press is all yours." He reminded with a leered.

"Oh, yes, my sweetheart, but we never spoke details. You're standing next to me in the press release. You honestly want them that close to me without you?"

Conceding with a heavy sigh, "Fine, but I expect an amazing honeymoon."

* * *

_Please Review-it's motivation to update. ;) (No flames please)Revised 6/15/10_


	16. Honeymoons and Death Grips

Hello Everyone, I am back! I want to apologize for the long absence-school and other responsibilities took all my time...but now, I have at least five weeks to write. Woot.

_A very special a thanks to all of those who reviewed, favorited, and alerted this fic._

_I wrote this in my history class last week-enjoy._

* * *

"Honeymoon?" Regan repeated as she took a sip of her black coffee.

"Yes, that's what newly married couples do." He returned with annoyance.

"I didn't think you could take a vacation, so I was prepared to send Alfred away for a week…" Her voice trailed off as she spotted a certain reporter heading toward the café. Bruce saw the horrified expression strewn across her face and immediately placed his usual façade in place.

"Mr. Wayne, Miss Carmichael. I'm sorry to bother you, but I came by to give you a chance to comment on what recently has transpired between you two." His demeanor screamed self-satisfaction. Regan glared at her coffee cup, while Bruce smirked. "What transpired? We're having coffee. You made Miss Carmichael feel awful, and me being the good friend, took her to coffee."

"Mr. Wayne, I assure you that coffee is the least of my ammo. I saw it."

Regan cut in. "Enough. Kent, I'll meet you at The Plaza in the Narrows at seven. I'll give you the inside scoop and wonderful comments. Alright?"

Bruce gazed at her in shock. The reporter was also surprised by her willingness to cooperate. Regan returned her focus to her cup. "Fine. See you then." He muttered excitedly and exited the coffee shop.

Once Bruce was sure that he was gone, he hissed, "Why?"

Was he really this dense? Regan rolled her eyes, "Don't worry, I'm not going to tell him anything. I'm going to blackmail him. However, I may need back up…" Her voice trailed off. He glared at her, wordlessly got up, and left her alone. Regan knew Bruce needed "alone" time, but leaving her alone in a coffee shop after a marriage proposal was ridiculous. Her eye twitched with slight annoyance. _'Why?' _she asked herself. Why did the press have to be so annoying? Why did Superman have to snoop? She mentally shuddered when her mind concocted the stand -off between Superman and Batman. Hopefully, Bruce would keep his temper in check, but she knew that wouldn't happen. He'd decimate the Man of Steel. She frowned at his half drank latte as if it was its fault.

Seeing no point in waiting around, Regan left Wayne Enterprises in a dark yet delighted mood. The two emotions directly contradicted each other, but she didn't care. She was a walking contradiction. The office didn't sound attractive, so she headed to _her_ unit. Upon entering the unit she was barraged with shouts, "Yo Lieu, we need you to approve an undercover sting."

"Carmichael, we've got a sighting of Zsas on 83rd."

"Assignments, Lieu?"

Closing her eyes, she fired back authoritatively, "Approval granted, Sanchez. Oates, check out the tip. I shouldn't have to dish out assignments; all of you should know your jobs by now." Pausing only for a breath, she continued, "Ramirez explain how far along we are on the Maroni smuggling case? Find the distributor?"

The detective scurried to her side, "We've got witnesses placing Maroni's right hand man at the shipment plant. Fingerprints are a match, but the DNA on the dead mystery girl is a no-go. Some other guy did her. We still have no idea who she is."

"Follow up with missing persons?" Regan questioned with a smirk.

"Shit. How did I forget that?"

"No worries, Ramirez. Take care of it." The detective returned to her desk with a frustrated expression. Regan glanced about her and was happy to see the unit running smoothly. Since no one was sitting on their hands, Regan made her way to her new office. Flipping on the lights, she instantly spotted a stack of file folders that she needed to review. Sighing audibly, she plopped down behind her desk. As she reached for a folder, the reflection of light off her ring caught her attention. She stared blankly at it as she began to day dream about the future. How long would Gotham need Batman? She immediately erased that thought. Batman was a part of Bruce. She'd never wish that part away from him. Ashamed, she read through the meaningless file.

Hours passed, and Regan found herself hesitant to leave the department to meet him. She couldn't take him on, but then again, she could use his identity against him. Leverage— his identity for her and Bruce's secret relationship. How far would she go to keep this under wraps? Pretty damn far. The thought of Bruce being in the shadows brought her tremendous comfort. How was this going to play out? She didn't know; she could only assume Bruce would kick ass as usual.

As she strolled out of the building, a terrible feeling flooded her. Something bad was going to happen. Desperately, she searched her mind for optimism but found none. _'Damn it._' She cursed inwardly as she climbed into her SLR, started it, and drove toward the Narrows. A five minute drive was all it took for her to get to the dingy café. Quickly composing herself, she exited and locked her car. The café held an ominous warning. Shaking it off, she entered. It was practically deserted with the exception of a blonde waitress in her fifties, an off-duty cop, and Clark Kent. He was seated in a corner booth. _'Don't falter, stay strong.'_

Confidently, she approached the booth and slid into the empty seat across from him.

"Miss Carmichael." He formally greeted.

"Mr. Kent." She hissed back. He shifted uncomfortably at her greeting. Regan stared at him, waiting for a question to be asked. After 30 seconds, he finally spoke, "I know what he gave you."

"Okay and what was that?" she returned flippantly. Strands of her mahogany hair hung in her face making her look even more run down.

"An engagement ring." He stated smugly. Biting her tongue, she looked away.

"Mr. Kent, you must understand why Bruce and I are so secretive. We both hold high positions in powerful companies. Regardless from what you've read or heard, he and I are private people. Please, don't do this."

"Miss Carmichael, I wish I had that option. The world needs to know that two of the world's most important execs are going to get hitched. Congrats by the way." Her eyes involuntarily narrowed, and she snorted at his chide.

"Mr. Kent, if you reveal our secret. I'll reveal yours. And we both know that yours is way more important."

With that, Regan left the eatery and darted into a pitch black alley. _'Let that sink in asshole.'_

As she turned to leave the alley, she almost ran into Clark Kent who was blocking the entrance. His black eyes stared her down, and his build became more threatening.

"How much do you know?" He growled. Regan fought the urge to run. _'Uh huh.'_ She thought to herself, _'Bruce better be here.'_

"I know enough." She whispered in a meek manner.

"How?" He questioned as took a step closer, and she instinctively took a step back.

"A friend." She carefully stated. Regan placed her hand on her gun, but she knew it wouldn't do any good. He was invincible.

"So you want me to bury the story, or you'll tell my secret? You do realize that I could snap you in half, make you forget, or become unreliable?"

"Are you threatening me?" she whispered as she took another step back.

"Miss Carmichael, my secret is everything. Yours is not. I hate what I'm about to do. Please forgive me."

Faster than she could react, his hand was around her throat. She couldn't breathe, and panic began to take over. _'Bruce.'_ She mentally screamed. As his grip tightened, tears formed in her eyes. He wasn't there—her guardian angel. She wouldn't see his face, his eyes, or feel his touch. She didn't want to die. It wasn't her time, and she knew it. But somehow he had another idea. As she calmed down, his grip dramatically loosened, and he gasped in pain.

"Let her go and back away." A deep, raspy voice ordered from the onyx abyss behind her.

"What? How?" The giant wheezed as he stumbled back from her. Regan gasped for air as she backed away toward her savior's voice.

"You should be ashamed, Kent. She's powerless against you."

"Blackmailing…me…"

Regan remained silent; her throat was closed. She could feel the bruise forming.

"Really? And murder was the answer?" He boomed as he stepped in front of her.

"I panicked." The Man of Steel pleaded.

"I'm sure you did, but you almost broke the most sacred rule. Never take a life."

"Batman, we both know how important our identities are. She was going to tell."

"I believe she propositioned you." He growled as he took a step closer, and Superman seemed to suffocate.

"If you ever come near her again, I will break my one rule." His tone threw her off-guard—it was so deadly. This was the side that she had never witnessed—the Batman.

The weak reporter nodded feebly and replied, "No story—got it."

Batman turned, wrapped his arms around her, shot his grappling gun toward a nearby building, and whisked her away from the broken super hero.

The suit was cold. Was he human? Regan could faintly hear his heartbeat, which assured her that he was. Nonetheless, the suit took away his humanity, which she was thankful for. Was this why Rachel couldn't be with him? The inhuman part of the Batman? If anything, this part made her love him that much more.

For the first time in years, she felt ashamed. Because of her stubbornness, she almost died. What had possessed her to take such a risk for such a minute thing? The world would eventually know the truth about their relationships. Inwardly, she shook her head and repeatedly scolded herself.

Her eyes were fixed on the darkened alley. Superman melted like putty when Bruce showed up. _'How did Bruce get kryptonite?' _She questioned as she felt them safely land on a nearby rooftop. He immediately checked her over. His dark eyes rested on her neck. His gloved hands gently graced her bare skin.

"Are you alright?" he questioned in his raspy voice, concern flooded his tone.

"I think so." She wheezed. An involuntarily growl ripped through him which caused Regan to jump.

"Batman, I'm alright. Thank you for saving me from that awful man. I should probably get home. I'm sure my fiancé is more than worried." She hoarsely offered with an apologetic smile. He remained silent. How much trouble was she in? After waiting several seconds, she inwardly cursed and headed toward the fire escape. His strong hand grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back.

"We're both going home." His raspy voice stated authoritatively. She didn't argue. The adrenaline rush had subsided, and reality set in. The trauma sent small tremors through her system. Near death experiences had never went over well with Regan. As her thought process slowed so did her movement. Seeing the shock setting in, Batman scooped her up into his arms, and he managed to get her into the tumbler. Regan's mind didn't catalogue his movements.

The only thing it did was replay the murderous facial expression of the alleged hero, Superman.

* * *

_Please review! Revised 6/15/10_


	17. The Shower Part A

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own DC Comics or characters associated with DC Comics. I only own my OCs.

_Author's Note:_ Thank you for all the wonderful reviews.

_Enjoy._

* * *

"Bruce? Where's my Karan wool jacket? You took it from me when I got home last night." Regan loudly questioned from their shared walk-in closet.

"Darling, it's hanging up next to my wool jacket." He answered as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Leaning into him for but a moment, Regan inquired, "Bruce, are you going to pack?"

"Alfred packs for me."

"Seriously? You're nearly thirty-two years old, and you don't pack your own bag?" She asked raising an eyebrow in bewilderment.

"Usually, I don't have time." He returned shrugging off her curious gaze. Rolling her eyes, she returned to packing.

"How much are you packing, Rae? We're going there for three days." He laughed as he eyed her two fairly large suitcases packed to their full capacity.

"I just want to be prepared."

"I think you're good. Why don't you change into something more comfortable for the flight?"

"Maybe, what are you wearing?"

"Why, are you going to coordinate?"

"No, just curious."

"Jeans and a gray thermal." He muttered as he stripped down and replaced his business suit with the mentioned jeans and gray thermal. He was going casual? Regan silently thanked God that he was in jeans, meaning she could wear jeans as well. Contently, she changed into a pair of Seven jeans, a crème camisole, a navy contrast trim blazer, and her trademark black track tennis. Happiness crept in as she gazed at herself in the mirror. Then her mind flashed to the hell she endured that past five days. The task force was taking more time and effort than she had predicted. They'd captured several intermediate dealers, but none would squeal on the bigger fish. Regan had been blamed in the press for the lack of information being extracted from the captured criminals. Plus, the piece Clark Kent had written caused some drama. He virtually stated that there was no relationship between the two which raised hell from her Father and Mr. Fox. Why can't those two back-off? Speaking of Clark Kent, Regan was still plagued by the hate in his eyes, but she refused to bend to her fear. Bruce would protect her—there was no question about it. The night he'd rescued her changed the dynamic of their relationship. Regan was no longer hesitant about how she felt about him. The timid-ness that she once experienced in regards to relationships vanished.

"Regan? You ready to go?" A smooth voice beckoned from behind.

"Uh, yes, I am. We're renting a car when we get there, correct?"

"Yes."

"And you shipped the pre-wrapped gifts?"

"Yes, Regan, you worry too much. Everything has been taken care of. Please try to relax." He scolded as he kissed her temple. Since Alfred was dropping them off, Bruce packed the luggage in the back of the Rolls Royce. As the duo sat comfortably in the backseat, Alfred started the engine.

Two hours later, Regan found herself sitting in the gate with Bruce. Luckily, people were too busy to notice the couple. Every time someone made eye contact with her, she prayed that they wouldn't recognize her. Bruce's muscular arm had draped itself around her shoulders, while her hand rested on his thigh. The silence between them was friendly and welcomed. Living in the fast lane took a toll on each, but they managed to make it work. Neither slept the suggested seven hours; down time wasn't an option either.

"Boarding first class Flight 2028 to DC." Bruce helped Regan stand and make their way to the stewardess who immediately began to hyperventilate. "Mr. Wayne and Miss Carmichael, no need to show passes go right ahead and board."

"Being famous has some perks." Bruce commented in her, earning a small giggle from his love.

Claiming their seats in the back left of first class, Bruce and Regan settled in and prepared for takeoff. Regan had brought some case files along to work on during the flight, which earned her an amused expression from Bruce.

"Work during vacation?"

"I need to get the big fish, so I can go to work and not be mobbed by the leeches." She whispered with a sigh.

"You'll get them. In the mean time, why don't you relax?" Bruce suggested airily.

"What do you suggest?" She responded flirtatiously.

"Hmm..." He returned as he feigned confusion. "I'd recommend a massage then a nap."

"Seems appropriate, are you going to give me a massage?" He answered her with a kiss on the lips. He grinned as he pulled away. "Once we get off the ground."

* * *

Bruce watched her sleep. He couldn't believe that they were so in love or getting married. The proposal had come way too soon, but he knew that they could make it work. Her gentle breathing made him smile. She was his other half. He was darkness, and she was light. He mentally chuckled, because sometimes the roles reversed. However, no matter the circumstance, they balanced each other. His eyes wandered and a shiny object caught his attention. Regan hadn't removed the ring from her hand. Smiling faintly, he covered her left hand with his. She stirred slightly and rested her head on his shoulder. Sighing deeply, he rested his head on hers and allowed light sleep to come.

Both awoke to the stewardess announcing the flight's preparation for arrival. Regan stretched and threw a smirk at Bruce. He cocked his head to the side and held a straight face. Regan crossed her eyes and made a funny face. He didn't falter. This battle was for rights to drive. Switching gears, Regan licked her lips and leaned in pulled on his ear. His face remained statue-esk. Glaring ever so slightly, she whispered, "What was Queen's number again?" His eyes visibly inflamed. She knew she hit below the belt. Sighing in defeat, "Fine, you drive. And I was joking about Queen…never would I…not if hell froze over…" He cut her off with a kiss. The duo parted due to the plane's dissention.

After getting off the plane, the duo claimed their baggage, exited the airport, went to the rental car lot, and picked up their rental. Bruce grinned as he eyed the car, which was the new black Bentley Continental GT Speed. "You would rent a car that is usually unavailable to the general public." Regan murmured as she climbed in the car. Chuckling, he finished placing their luggage in the trunk and climbed into the driver's seat.

"Okay, so which exit?"

"Georgetown. She has a condo around there, and I booked a hotel that's right across the street."

"How convenient." He teased.

Ignoring him, she gazed at the landscape that she knew like the back of her hand. She missed DC, but Gotham was adventurous. She was sure Bruce would roll his eyes if she ever voiced that aloud. The silence in the car was comfortable, but she was unsure what Bruce would think of her friends. She knew all of his friends, but he barely knew hers. It was weird to think that she was the one that held back on telling him everything. She wasn't raised to tell everyone everything. Then again, Bruce was her fiancé. He deserved to know everything.

"I just want to warn you that Jillian is, well, nosy and protective. She'll grill you."

"I wouldn't expect anything less from your best friend. My concern is the husband."

Regan snorted. "Kyle is the most laid back person that you'll ever meet...and they're not married. He's more like the perpetual boyfriend."

"Hmm..."

Regan raised an eyebrow at his lack of response. Was he still concerned over Kyle Wilcox? Kyle who stood at a measly 6'0, 140? The Casey Affleck look-a-like? She rolled her eyes at the thought of Bruce being 'concerned.' The man had yet to propose to Jillian. Regan had thought since Jillian was pregnant that he would, but Kyle didn't think it was 'time.'

"Did you roll your eyes at me?" Bruce accused with a smirk.

"No, I was thinking about Jillian's relationship with Kyle—how he got her pregnant and has yet to propose to her. It's just weird."

"Oh, well, each relationship is unique."

"Don't get all philosophical on me. You asked me a question, and I answered."

"Sorry, Alfred rubs off on me sometimes. I'll agree that him not taking their relationship further is different, but maybe they're both content with what they have."

"Maybe."

"This exit, right?" He gestured to the right.

"Yeah, then make a right at the light. Then a left."

He silently obeyed and easily spied _The Fairfax at Embassy Row_ on the left side. She booked a nice hotel?

* * *

_Please Review Responsibly. Revised 6/15/10_

_Author's Note:_ I will not be able to update again until after Christmas, but no worries, the next chapter will be very...what's the word?...hmm...interesting.( Enter Kyle and Jillian.)


	18. The Shower Part B

Disclaimer:

This is the final disclaimer. It's pretty obvious that I do not own DC Comics or any of brands mentioned in this fic.

_Thanks to those who reviewed (means a lot too), again, good motivation to keep writing and to try and focus_

* * *

**8:30 AM**

Regan fidgeted as she listened to her love order breakfast from room service. Today was D-Day. Would Jillian behave? Probably not. That wouldn't be her style. And Kyle—all his innuendo jokes. _'I'm screwed.'_ Bruce's nervousness was beginning to rub off on her. Glancing at the time, Regan stretched her shoulders and shifted to get out of bed.

Just as her leg hit the plush carpet, she felt his strong hand wrap around her waist and pull her back. "Where do you think you're going?" His flirtatious tone made her blush.

"I was going to get ready?" She questioned as she squirmed.

"The party isn't until two-thirty. Besides, this is our vacation. Relax, Regan."He ordered as his grip tightened. He had made a valid point. Regan audibly sighed and twisted to face him. His dark eyes mesmerized her; she couldn't tear her gaze from him. She easily lost track of time, and before she knew it, they were both sitting at the two person table eating breakfast.

"Regan?"

His voice pulled her from the fog she was trapped in, "Hmm?"

"You've been staring at me for the past two hours, are you alright?" A smile tugged at his lips.

"I'm fine… just day-dreaming. You told me that I was on vacation, so I relaxed just like you told me too." _'Great grammar, Regan.'_

"By staring at me?" He questioned clearly amused.

Regan rolled her eyes. He asked for the truth...ish. "I was staring at your eyes, Bruce. They're comforting." She mumbled as she stabbed the scrambled egg with her fork.

"No need to be embarrassed, Regan. I stare at you all the time. The difference is that you never notice."

"Or it's because you're a ninja and a skilled actor, which impairs me to be aware of your true actions?" She teased as she sipped her coffee. She could see his mind searching for a comeback.

After several seconds, Regan chuckled, "Gotcha."

* * *

**2:25 PM**

"Are you sure I look okay?" Regan questioned as she glanced at her outfit, which consisted of a long sleeve, asymmetrical navy blue sweater, white skinny jeans, and dark blue ballet flats.

"You look fine, actually, more than fine. Those Washington insiders are going to be jealous." He assured.

She smiled faintly, "If you say so."

"I know so. Now, would you quit stalling—we're going over there to support Jillian." He returned evenly gauging her response.

"Whoa, wasn't that statement meant for me to say to you?"

He shrugged as he grabbed his navy sports jacket, "Read your mind."

"Oh, so now you're gifted with telepathy—that's original." She teased as she reached for her Coach purse.

"It's possible." He stated with conviction knowing all too well that Regan did not appreciate talking about super powers. That was one condition of their relationship—she did not want to know who his allies were or what they could do. According to one of her small rants, the idea of him being surrounded by super-powered beings made her worry.

"Right…" She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. _'He knows the conditions we agreed on.'_

Desperately trying to change the subject, he charmed, "Sweetheart, let's go and enjoy ourselves."

"Alright, darling, let's do this."

* * *

**2:33 PM**

"Just ring the doorbell, Bruce! Honestly." Regan hissed exasperatedly. The nervous episodes exchanged between the two was killing her.

"We can always call. Sickness, emergency—" He was immediately cut off by the door opening to reveal a very amused Jillian.

"I smelled your cagey countenance, Regan. Get your ass in here and bring your handsome boyfriend too. I've been waiting to hear all the gossip."

"Hormonal, are we?" Regan shot back as she enter the lavish condo with Bruce trailing behind her.

"Don't you dare call me that." Jillian seethed.

Bruce tried to pull Regan back towards the door, but an older gentleman swatted his hand and laughed, "They do this all the time. It's just a pissing match between old friends."

Regan seized upon the ADA's weak spot, "But, it's true isn't it? Kyle, darling, I'm correct, yes?"

All eyes drifted to the father to be. He looked like a deer caught in headlights causing Bruce to chuckle. The dainty man gasped, "I plead the fifth."

"I win." Regan rejoiced as she moved to hug Jillian. Jillian's arms stopped her which forced Regan to take in the wicked grin strewn across the lawyer's face.

"Not so fast, Rae, aren't you the one who's actually hormonal? Did you get laid like I told you to?"

The whole room fell into a hush. Regan's eyes grew wide with surprise but managed to fire back with poise, "Really? You're going to talk about my love life? Sweetheart, you're the one to talk. I'm not the one who's knocked up." Regan ended with a z-snap and roll of the eyes.

Jillian tried to hold back laughter but failed miserably. "Oh my God! You win, Regan."

"Excellent. Now do I get a hug?" With a surprisingly teenage girl giggle, Jillian leapt forward and gave the lieutenant a bone-crushing hug.

"God, I missed you. Why did I send you to Gotham?" She questioned seriously.

"To get laid." Bruce added as he wrapped his arm around Regan's waist.

"Oh, you don't have to humor me, Bruce. I know you both haven't done the dirty, but I will be aware the minute you guys are done, correct Regan?"

"Eww, no. You will not be informed that quickly. And stop talking about this. There are at least three senators here who interact with my father." Regan murmured as she leaned against Bruce. She didn't regret bringing him with her.

"You're always worried about your rep. Calm yourself." Jillian dismissed with her hand. Regan raised an eyebrow and copied the hand gesture.

"Are you mocking me?"

"Never. I was just trying to figure out what the hand gesture meant."

"It means loosen up. Now, I'm going to drag you around and use you for political gain. Sound good?" Jillian ripped Regan from Bruce's grasp, threw him a devious smirk, and pulled Regan toward a bunch of judges.

"Oh, God…" Bruce whispered as he watched Regan being fed to the vultures.

* * *

**5:00 PM**

"So Bruce, how long have you been with our dear Regan?" Kyle chuckled beside the billionaire as they watched their lovers interact with an appellate court judge.

"About two months. How about you and Jillian?" Bruce deflected. Personal questions never suited him.

"About five years. I love her, but she's a handful."

"Looks like it." Bruce commented as Regan flashed him a smile. He returned a faint one. Regan was right; she did need a wingman. These people were sharks.

"What about Regan? She's not difficult?" Kyle questioned surprised. Bruce glanced at the small man who surprisingly had a deep voice.

"She's perfect." He stated with reverence. Bruce was on his last nerve with people asking questions, but so far none of them seemed interested enough to announce the duo's romance to the general masses.

"Perfect? Have you seen her interrogate? She's sooo scary…"

"But perfect at. So she's still flawless." Bruce finished slightly irritated. Kyle sensed Bruce's irritation, which caused his murky brown eyes to sparkle with mischief.

Smirking, he pushed, "So in essence, you mixed business with pleasure? Smart man." Bruce rolled his eyes in exasperation and decided that the innuendo statement did not deserve a answer. _'What does Jillian see in this guy?' _

By Bruce's standards, the couple had stayed long enough—it was time to leave. The flight left promptly at seven which meant they needed to get up at four.

* * *

**7:00 PM**

"So, Gotham? What's it like? I only know what I read in the newspapers." Kyle quizzed with a laugh. _'This guy is relentless.' _

"Have you ever been to New York?"

"Yes."

"It's like that but darker in nature." _'Please leave me alone.'_ Bruce mentally added. The billionaire knew that he'd be stuck with the small man for years to come but never again will he go to a party in D.C.

"Oh, but you and Regan are content living there?"

"Apparently so." His thoughts drifted to Gotham. This 'baby shower' was the closest thing they had to a vacation and would probably be their last until their honeymoon. Bruce acknowledged that living in the slow lane was nice, but he longed to be in his city. He could tell that Regan wasn't enjoying herself either. This was no longer her natural habitat. They needed Gotham just as much as it needed them.

However, Bruce noticed a look of longing in Regan's eyes. It occurred every time Jillian subconsciously held her abdomen. She envied Jillian's pregnancy. She wanted kids_. 'Oh, Lord.'_

Could he handle children? The more appropriate question: Could Batman handle kids? _'They wouldn't have a father. '_ He reasoned. The idea of having children was simply out of the question. Then again, he knew that if Regan wanted kids; he'd give in. He loved her too much to deny her happiness.

Love. He emotionally, mentally, and spiritually loved her, but he had never physically loved her with the exception of a few make-out sessions. When it became too "heated", Regan always pulled away. Was it maintaining a sense of control? Did she desire a deeper connection? He wanted her, but did she want him back?

_'Of course, she agreed to marry me. She must being waiting for the honeymoon.'_ He summarized thoughtfully. However, the questions stubbornly tugged at him.

_'Tonight.'_ He resolved. He wanted to understand her hesitancy about being intimate.

He got up and left Kyle in the corner babbling on about how D.C. was such a wonderful place to live versus Gotham. Bruce grasped Regan around the waist and whined in her ear, "Can we go? Please?"

She turned to affectionately kiss his neck and whispered, "I'm working on it. I'm sorry about this. Jillian manipulated me to come here and play politics. My niece or nephew has yet to be mentioned."

"It's alright. It's just...we need to get out of here. I want to spend our last hours doing something other than mingling with these sharks."

"What did you have in mind?" she purred in ear. At that moment, he wanted her in every single way.

* * *

_Author's Note:_ Please review responsibly..._Revised 6/15/10_


	19. Do Not Disturb'

_Author's Note:_ Thank you to all those who reviewed!

_Sub-Note:_ Sorry it took so long for me to update. I just wrote this tonight, I know it's short, and I apologize for that. However, I believe this chapter is crucial; hopefully, you agree.

* * *

He smirked and murmured, "We'll discuss that back at the hotel." She raised her eyebrows in surprise. Regan had been so busy with the overly cliché political discussions that she had failed to see that her soon to be hubby was bored out his mind and was possibly contemplating crossing the line she had drawn so many times before.

"Hmm, I'll tell Jillian that I'm leaving." Regan left him standing in the midst of blood-thirsty lobbyists. Throwing a smirk over her shoulder, Regan gracefully grasped Jillian's wrist and yanked her into the small kitchen.

"Are you crazy? That was the—" Regan put her hand over the hyper ADA's mouth and waited for her to calm down.

"I'm leaving." Regan stated subdued as she removed her hand.

"No! You can't leave! I need you!" Jillian hissed loudly.

"Eh, you can manage by yourself. Bruce and I need some alone time." Regan sighed.

"Alone time?"

"Yeah, alone time. We never get peace, so we're going to go enjoy the calm before we go back to the fast lane. Please, Jillian." Regan tried her best to give the biggest kicked -puppy look.

Jillian's hardened face immediately softened, "Not the kicked-puppy look, Regan." Regan remained steadfast.

"UGH, fine. Damn you. Go have fun with your billionaire." Jillian whispered in defeat. Regan gave her best friend a fleeting hug, left the kitchen, wordlessly grabbed Bruce, and left.

Once in the hallway, Regan let out a sigh of relief, "Finally, we're free."

Bruce chuckled behind her and shook his head at her. "You wanted to be there."

Swiveling to face him, she stuck her tongue out and strutted away. He quickly caught up to her, wrapped his arm around her waist, offered a silent shrug, and led her toward the hotel.

Her stomach dropped at his urgency to get to the hotel. There was no excitement in her, only dread. He wanted her, and she had to tell him 'no.' Yes, she loved him, and, yes, she wanted him too; but it wasn't the right time or place. Besides, she had horrible experiences in the relationship department concerning life after sex. This time, she'd do it right. Waiting for marriage was the best option for the both of them.

Once in the hotel room, she walked to the window, and as she gazed about she muttered, "Bruce, I can't. I'm not ready for that." Her voice was strained.

"You're ready to die with me but not make love with me?" Her reasoning he had yet to hear, but so far, he found his fiancé to be extremely confusing.

"Look, I know I'm confusing, but trust me, past experiences tell me to wait. I don't want to lose you—like I lost them." It clicked. Her previous relationships had turned out less than desirable after sex. _'She'd take a one-way ticket to death but not sex.' _He mentally summarized.

"I would never leave you Regan. I've shared too much with you. Hell, if you asked me to, I'd give up saving Gotham."

She froze and her eyes grew wide. _'He wants it that bad?'_ Closing her eyes to regain some composure, Regan knew that she'd have to choose a path. His declaration changed everything. Words escaped her.

She re-opened her eyes and stared into his. The amount of emotion in them scared her—he was serious. Biting her lip, she crossed the room, embraced him, and whispered, "The minute Batman disappears, I disappear."

Picking her up and walking to the bed, Bruce hoarsely returned, "Good." Blushing at his tone, she let out a soft chuckle.

"Before I forget," he stated as he left her on the bed and headed toward the door. He swiftly hung the 'Do Not Disturb' placard on the outside door handle. He quickly returned and whispered, "Where were we?"

* * *

Regan awoke with a smile plastered on her face; however, she had no motivation to move. Bruce was sound asleep on top of her. Without thinking, her hand ran through his dark brown hair. His breathing was deep and steady, and strangely his body was completely relaxed. Regan had never seen him completely at ease. _'We'll have to do this more often.'_ She thought to herself. However, she knew that life would be different in Gotham. Time was of the essence; it held everything together.

Time. _'What time is it?'_ She questioned worried. They had plane reservations—at nine. Glancing toward the window, Regan could clearly see that the sun had risen.

"Shit." She whispered as she slightly shifted in panic.

"I changed our flight, we leave at five." His voice caught her off-guard. He'd been awake the entire time?

"Oh." That was all she could come up with. Gently, he rolled off of her, pulled her close to him, and murmured, "See? I'm still here."

She snorted, "Give it a week."

"Uh huh, after last night, I won't be able to be with anyone else. You—" His voice trailed off.

"That good, huh?" She teased as she planted a kiss on his neck.

"Good isn't the right word. Extraordinary? Mind blowing? Choose one."

"Wow." She sarcastically muttered.

He shifted to face her, "You think I'm lying?"

The possibility had crossed her mind. "No."

"Well, I can prove it to you."

"We do have the afternoon." She agreed with a smirk.

"My thoughts exactly."

* * *

(There will not be lemons in this fic. I could never bring myself to write such things. )

_Please review responsibly. Revised 6/15/10_


	20. Heading Home

_Author's Note: _A special thanks to chillinwithRAYintheuk, Labyrinth Fan 23, Hope and Love, and Fairy Skull for reviewing!

_Sub-Note: _My apologies for not updating often. School had taken over my life, but since it's summer, I have gained temporary freedom. So, hopefully, I'll be able to write and update more.

* * *

After a pleasurable afternoon, Regan soon found herself sitting beside her lover at Dulles Airport waiting to board her flight back home. His arm was possessively draped around her shoulders. She let her mind wander. A bright flash of light brought her back to reality.

"Bruce Wayne, would you like to comment on the nature of your relationship with Regan Carmichael?"

"Miss Carmichael, comment?"

Bruce glanced at her and mouthed, "T-H-E- D-E-A-L." Rolling her eyes, she looked at the sea of reporters that had gathered around them.

"Here's your comment: Bruce and I are engaged. We're happy. Thanks for caring." The crowd erupted with panic and confusion. She faintly heard Bruce chuckle beside her.

* * *

"You handled that well." He muttered as they took their seats in first class.

"What can I say? I'm gifted in public speaking." He snorted and shot her a disapproving look.

She countered with a grin and offered, "Babe, I'll hold a press conference when we get home or something. I'll take care of it. That, after all, was the deal." She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. This coming week was going to be stressful—lots of meetings, business dinners, etc. Plus, she had loads of paperwork waiting for her at the station. But both jobs didn't stress her the way that future press conference would.

"I can tell you're stressing, I'll have Lucius announce it or give an official press release." His hand grasped hers, his thumb rubbed circles on the back of hers.

"Alright, that would help tremendously." She whispered as she dozed.

"Do you always sleep on airplanes?"

"No. I don't sleep when I'm alone, but I'm not alone, am I?"

"Ah, I see. But, I'd prefer to have company on this two hour flight…"His voice drifted. Regan felt his body stiffen which made her eyes fly open.

"Bruce?" She questioned alarmed.

"Kent." He stated through clenched teeth. Her stomach dropped and a sour expression formed on her face.

Was it just a coincidence? The Man of Steel had sworn that he'd stay far away from the couple…No, this was planned. He alerted the press. He was the reason Bruce's casual demeanor vanish. He was the reason she wouldn't be able the cuddle with her fiancé. He was the douche bag ruining her high.

Bruce's hand tightening his grip on hers brought her back from her internal rant. Following Bruce's gaze, she spotted the "boy scout" sitting several seats ahead reading a newspaper or, at least, that's how it appeared. His body language was a confirmation of her previous suspicions: this wasn't a coincidence; he'd been following them. Had Bruce known?

"Darling," she cooed, "don't worry about him right now. We'll deal with him when we land." His jaw locked, a fierce expression formed, and his body language conveyed anger and edginess. Sighing, Regan rose from her seat and headed for the lavatory. As she passed the Man of Steel, she whispered, "We know you're following. Please stop pissing him off."

The reporter had a faint smile on his face, "By him, you mean your fiancé?"

Raising an eyebrow, she sarcastically muttered, "Oh right, I completely forgot." She stuck her tongue out and entered the bathroom. Inside, Regan took several deep breaths and checked her appearance in the mirror. Normally, she wasn't too concerned about appearance, but this was different. She wanted to be assured that Kent didn't have a huge impact on her bodily high. Unfortunately, he did. Her rosy cheeks had turned pale white, and her eyes were no longer a deep green. "Damn." She hissed as she exited the bathroom.

Much to her surprise, Boy Scout was no longer in his seat. An eerie feeling came over her. '_Huh.' _

As she made her way back to her lover, her heartbeat sped up, because she didn't see him anywhere. A stewardess passed by and Regan, in a hushed tone, asked, "Do you, by chance, know where Bruce Wayne went?"

The red-headed woman faked a smile and replied, "I'm not at liberty to discuss it."

Holding in her frustration, Regan countered, "I'm his fiancé. Where did he go?"

Sigh with annoyance, she hissed, "He's in a private meeting with Mr. Kent in our new business room downstairs. He gave strict instructions that they are not to be disturbed, even by you."

Regan's eyes readily narrowed. "Fine," she growled as she passed the stewardess and reclaimed her seat. '_Back to secrets and disappearing.' _she thought frustrated. What did it matter? _'Bruce is probably setting him straight….Don't worry.'_

* * *

He didn't return during the flight. What was he discussing? He surely wasn't giving a private interview. Was he talking to him about his extracurricular activities? Regan's shoulders caved. This was one aspect of their relationship that she found unsettling—the secrets. She knew that he knew better than to hold anything back.

As the plane touched down at Gotham International, she still found herself alone. She grabbed both carry-ons and walked off the plane. The red-head waved and in a cheery voice, "I hope you enjoyed your flight."

"Kiss my ass." Regan retorted through gritted teeth.

When she walked toward baggage claim, cameras and reporters were waiting like a pack of hungry wolves waiting to devour a young doe. Taking a deep breath, she entered the frenzy. Cameras flashed. Shouting rang loudly in her ears. She could only make out her fast-paced heartbeat, which is a sure sign of a panic attack. She tried to ignore it.

"Are you and Wayne official?"

"Did you elope?" "When's the official date?"

"Where's Wayne?" "Will the companies merge?"

"Are you pregnant?" "Is it love?"

Attempting to ignore them, she swiftly grabbed their checked luggage and strapped the carry-ons to the checked.

"Regan Wayne, good ring to it eh?" A familiar voice greeted. Alfred. Relief flooded her system, and she offered a faint, forced smile.

"Where's Master Bruce?" He questioned with a knowing look, which she completely missed.

"I don't know. He left me during the flight to talk to Kent." She mumbled sadly.

"Ah, well, let's get you away from the dogs, and we'll wait for him at the Rolls."

Alfred grasped Bruce's luggage and led her outside. The pack of wolves followed them and increased in size.

"Did he leave you?" One shouted causing her blood to boil. Her jaw locked and her muscles stiffened.

"No." She hissed. The reporter's eyes widened at her tone.

"Where is he then?"

"Discussing business with a friend. Now, please excuse me." She heaved herself inside the car and slammed the door. About two minutes later, the trustworthy butler climbed in and chuckled, "I'm getting too old for this."

"You're telling me. God, Alfred, he left me alone on that flight. What's going on? Do you know?" It clicked. The knowing look from Alfred. Her head began to spin.

"Regan, I—"

"He called you during the flight." She accused flatly.

"Yes."

"And?" Her patience was dwindling. Why now? They had an amazing time in DC, and that entire high or thought was erased by lies and disappearing acts.

"He won't be joining us."

Her eyes narrowed, "Why didn't he call me?"

"I don't know." The older man admitted in a quiet tone.

"Fine. Can we go home? I'm done with this." She requested in a shaky voice. Trust. What the hell?

* * *

Regan unpacked both her and Bruce's belongings and changed into black jeans and a black camisole. With a glare plastered on her face, she headed for the cave. It was time to play the waiting game. She wanted answers. Smartly, she took a seat in a nook covered in darkness. _'He'll come eventually—it's his habit.'_

About an hour later, two voices echoed in the vehicle entrance of the cave. "So you want me to watch Luthor?"

"If you could, or at least do some research."

"Regan's not going to like this, Kent. I'm sure she's pissed."

Her eyes watched the two men gaze at the large computer screen. "You'd be right." Her voice echoed in the cave. Both men turned in surprise and stared at the dark wall. Regan remained motionless and hissed, "You fed me to the dogs." A pained expression crossed her loves face, while Kent shifted uncomfortably. Bruce walked directly to where she was sitting.

"Babe." He whispered as he embraced her. "I'm sorry." He spoke into the crook of her neck. Regan felt her resolve slipping. He was repentant.

"Why?"

"There was an emergency—Kent and I may have to work together."

"He tried to kill me."

"I know."

* * *

_Please Review. _


	21. I Can Fix That

_My apologies for the short update. Writer's block is rearing its ugly head._

_Thanks to:_ Queen Islanzadi, softballlover298, Amnesty Stark, Selene Ruby Rose Snape: _for reviewing!_

_Enjoy._

* * *

Regan shifted uncomfortably. How was she supposed to respond to a "I know" statement? Rage consumed her. Her fiancée was helping the man who tried to kill her. She knew the two men were waiting for her to respond. But how could she? It took every ounce of her strength to keep her body from shaking. Regan liked being in control and that particular response made her lose what she held most dear. This entire thing was ridiculous. Her eyes automatically narrowed at the one person she loved. His face remained clear of any emotion. He was waiting. Regan knew she needed to be in control before she could give a real, logical response. Closing her eyes, she attempted to clear her mind and negate the overwhelming emotions. _'Obviously Bruce has a good reason to help the bastard. Hear him out and then go ape shit.'_

After almost having a conniption, Regan listened patiently to his long, complex explanation. From what she could gather, there was a villain in Metropolis that was nearly untouchable. Superman couldn't do it, so Batman would have to. Well, technically, Bruce Wayne and Regan Carmichael would have to. The plan was simple in nature: diminish Luthor's money supply which would eventually leave Luthor to only use his unsavory business deals. She held her hand up signaling him to stop. This entire ordeal was going to be one big, massive headache.

"Uh, huh, why not do a business deal? Find the inconsistencies and you got him in the bag?"

Bruce rolled his eyes, "Rae, he's far too good for that." _'Of course he is.'_ She snapped bitterly at herself.

"Why can't _you _handle this?" Regan growled at the quiet alien. This, after all, was his problem. The couple had no reason to get involved. Metropolis was pretty far away, and Gotham wasn't in the direct line of fire of Lex's dirty deeds.

"He has kryptonite." The moment he admitted it; everything clicked into place—the following, the "story." He wanted Batman, not a story about their love life. _'Absolutely fantastic. The invincible has an enemy who has his one and only weakness. Nothing can ever be easy.'_

She returned her attention to Bruce searching for a signal of what he really wanted. His eyes had the familiar glint of desire and adventure. Staring directly into his eyes, she conceded, "Fine, but this better not interfere with our wedding plans, understood?" _'God, I hate myself. I can never say no to him.'_

Smiling, Bruce embraced her and whispered in her ear, "It won't. I promise."

She kissed him chastely on the lips and left the cave with a feeling of uncertainty. Regan knew it'd interfere with their plans, but what could she do? She loved him. Regan was well aware of his crusade for justice and how much it meant to him-it was a part of him. She could easily picture the tension that would come with this, nevertheless, their relationship would remained untainted. And why would Bruce be so submissive to her on this? He was the stubborn one who makes the decisions. He's Batman.

* * *

After an hour of tossing and turning in bed, her ears picked up familiar footsteps in the hallway. She tensed as the door opened. Bruce had gone out on patrol after their confrontation. Keeping her eyes closed, Regan counted to thirty, and by the time she stopped, he was beside her. Well, in the bed, there was nearly a foot of space between them—that bothered her immensely.

Immediately, she closed the space. Gently, she rested her head against his chest. His arm swiftly wrapped around her.

"What's with the space?" she whispered as right hand traced his abdomen.

"I thought you were mad."

"No, I was mad before our talk. After, I'm just worried." He remained silent. She could see his face in the darkness—dark, tense, and serious. Oddly, Regan wanted him then and there. Subconsciously, she wrapped her leg around his waist. His other hand grabbed her calf. She glanced again; his face retained its edge and anger. In one swift motion, she was on top of him.

"Regan."

"Babe."

He immediately caved.

* * *

Regan awoke with a smile on her face._ 'Angry sex is amazing.' _

While resting in the arms of her love, she subtly stretched her shoulders, which relieved any remaining tension from her body. Her high was back. Bruce was her drug, and she loved the idea of that.

"It's ten. We're late." He murmured as he shifted to bury his face in her hair and neck.

"Mmhmm, I have feeling you already called in." This situation had become a ritual for the two-calling in and stating the duo would be late followed by cuddling.

A muffled "maybe" sounded from him. As if it were timed, a knock sounded at the door. Regan quickly checked to see if they were covered, and they were.

"Come in." She stated as her hand played with his hair. Alfred entered followed by the Boy Scout. Regan automatically rolled her eyes. The high immediately vanished. '_Damn it.' _Bruce didn't move, but she knew that he was aware of the two extra presences in their room.

"Sorry to intrude—" Clark started but immediately was silenced by Bruce raising his hand from his current position.

"I'm busy, Kent. I'll call you as soon as I implement the plan. Get out, so I can enjoy my fiancée."

Regan smiled smugly at the pest, and he shot her a slight glare.

Once they were gone, Regan mused, "You surprised me, I thought you were going to be completely focused on this until it was resolved."

He chuckled softly, "Oh, I will be. I just wanted to get all my aggression out, so I can handle the prick effectively."

"So you're using me?" She teased as her hand traced a long scar down his back.

"No, I'm enjoying you—major difference. Besides, I know your high vanished the minute you saw him, and I can fix that."

* * *

_Please review responsibly. _


	22. Crackpots and The New World Order

Author's Note/Apology: I haven't updated in months, and for that, I sincerely apologize. I've had a lot on my plate, and much to my dismay, I let fanfiction take a back seat. However, starting with this post, I'm going to attempt to change that. So, bear with me as I try this priority change. :)

To those who reviewed, alerted, and favorited: Thank you so much-all of your involvement has motivated me to update and think about what's next for Regan and Bruce.

Enjoy my rather short update...it's mainly about Regan. Bruce will be in the next chapter. ;)

* * *

It had been nearly two months since the plan had been set in motion, and frankly, Regan was fed up with the entire affair. Bruce had talked her into strong arming the majority of the other businesses her company was in bed with to stonewall Lex Corps. She had to swear to the majority of CEOs that it was a short term separation due to some unsettling practices of Lex Corps. She cursed every moment of every day. The lies were piling up, and she hadn't seen Bruce in several days. Sure, she was used to his absences to do Batman-related stuff, but this was completely different. They both were home, but they didn't share any conversations unless it was related to the plan.

In the midst of this organized chaos, Regan was trying to semi-plan a wedding. Her heart ached every time she looked through magazines or called caterers—she was doing everything alone. Sulking was never in her nature, but it seemed to have developed.

"Hey Lieu, can we, uh, talk, uh, privately?"

Regan's eyes met Detective Ramirez's and nodded. She had been zoning out again.

"Sure, Ramirez. Come on in and close the door." The detective obediently closed the door and took a seat. Regan briefly looked over the detective and noticed that they were nearly wearing the same thing: black jean, gray v-neck long sleeve shirt, and tennis shoes.

"What can I do for you?" Regan asked with a forced smile. The detective shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.

"I know it's not my place, but you're not lookin' to good. I think you need to go home." The detective's voice was laced with worry. Detective Anna Ramirez had seen a lot of superior officers come and go. She didn't mind that they were gone, they were terrible leaders. However, she feared that she'd lose Carmichael. Ramirez would never verbally admit it, but she had great respect for the young lieutenant.

Regan stared at her for several moments. She knew she looked like crap, even worse than when her sister was trying to take over Gotham.

"Thanks for the concern, but trust me, I'd rather be here than home."

The half Puerto Rican detective cocked her head to the side in confusion. "You don't want to be home? Isn't that where your fiancé is?" She knew she was pressing her luck with her superior officer.

Regan visibly stiffened and a hard look crossed her face. She tried to come up with an answer that would satisfy the woman across from her.

"He's away on business. I don't like being alone." With a slight pause, she continued, "How are we on the Beck case?"

"Fine, his fingerprints were on the distribution baggies. He's in a holding cell waiting to be taken to county."

Regan nodded her head in satisfaction. _'At least, we got someone.'_

"Did he roll over on his provider?"

"Nah, still working on it. Either DA Dawes will get it out of him or you will. Maybe you'd like to take a crack at him? You haven't interrogated in a while."

"Hmm, sure, I could use a break."

Regan rose to her feet and felt her muscles immediately tense. Where was the relaxed Regan Carmichael she once knew? The two women left the office and headed toward interrogation. Ramirez handed her the case file. Immediately, she began to pour over all the notes. As she multitasked, Regan faintly heard Ramirez tell Shafer to grab Beck and take him into interrogation one.

Regan stood patiently in the observation room as she waited for the perp. This was a simple case; they had him at every corner. Why not confess and save the good tax payers some money?

She smiled slightly as she watched Shafer shove the suspect into the room and delivered a harsh "Take a seat."

After waiting several moments, she smoothly opened the door and yelled over her shoulder, "Don't worry about it, Shafer. If he gives me trouble, I'll let the Bat have him." She turned to face him and delivered an innocent smile to the fidgety raven-haired man sitting behind the table.

"You must be Zachary Beck, yes?" Her voice was airy and overly interested which caused him to squirm slightly.

"Allegedly." He fired back. Regan raised an eyebrow at his angry tone. _'Rule thirteen: the more agitated the perp, the easier they break.' _

"So tell me, Mr. Beck, you're from Gotham?" The question was mundane to say the least. She knew the answer before she asked it.

"No."

Slightly caught off guard, Regan glanced down at the sheet. Her eyes had seen "Gotham" written all over the page.

"Then where are you from?" She kept her voice even and cocked her head to the side to give him the false idea that he was winning.

"Metropolis." _'Didn't see that one coming,'_ she thought sarcastically. Metropolis. The center of her hatred. Every aspect of her life pointed to Metropolis.

"Fantastic. So, Mr. Beck, I'm gonna be upfront. We have your fingerprints on the bags of cocaine, and pictures of you selling. We have witnesses willing to testify that you sold them said cocaine. How can you claim innocence? Why don't you confess and save everyone time and money." She had leaned-in as she spoke. Her voice was threatening and accusatory. Her eyes never left his dark blue ones.

"I had to get you in here and denying was the only way." His voice was low and smirk formed on his face. "I have a message."

"And that would be?"

"Release the squeeze on Lex Corps or there will be dire consequences in the New World Order."

'_My God, not another crack pot.'_ She thought as she climbed to her feet, and added, "I'll keep that in mind, and I'll let DA Dawes know that you're pleading guilty."

Once she left the interrogation room, she mulled over his statement. "The New World Order" was always associated with either the End Times or someone taking over the world...There had been rumors that floated around the Lex Luthor was obsessed with world domination..._'Just fantastic.'_

* * *

Please review responsibly.


	23. How Long Does It Take to Be Saved?

My sincerest apologies for not updating, and thank you to all of you who have reviewed and started following this story.

Disclaimer: I own nothing by my OC.

* * *

An hour had passed since the outlandish threat. Regan sat in her office mulling over the possibility that the threat was real and eminent. Rubbing her eyes with the intent to release some amount of frustration, Regan audibly sighed and realized that this wasn't working. Nothing was. She hadn't returned to Gotham to fail or get worn out. This plan needed to be finished and there was a serious need for dialogue with the Dark Knight.

"No more plan," she growled. Climbing to her feet, she gathered some files that needed further analyzing, paperwork that need signatures, and notes. Upon clocking out, Regan came face to face with Commissioner Gordon.

"Leaving early?" He questioned with his eyebrows raised.

"Sir, I need to clear my head." She challenged. Her body language, however, gave off a tired disposition.

He nodded, "I understand. You've had a hell of a few months."

"Thank you." Regan slowly walked to her beautiful car and drove back to the office. As she approached Charlotte who was answering the phone, Regan held her index finger to her lips—trying to signal that she wanted anonymity. Charlotte paused as she listened to the person on the other end. Charlotte half nodded as she continued the phone. Regan caught the tail end of the conversation, "Tell Mr. Wayne that she's not in."

Regan felt a pang in her heart, but she shook it off. What did he want now? More time? She began to mutter aloud, "Let me guess? 'Babe, I won't be home tonight. I have a meeting.' 'Don't wait up.' 'Kent and I…'" Silent tears fell as she worked herself up even more. " 'Don't worry. I'll take care of you.'" Regan had always refrained from cursing but _fuck_. She felt used. Kent almost killed her; she made a mistake of thinking that Bruce would have told the Dick of Steel a solid 'no.'

"I'm a fool." She stated as she sat at her desk. Placing her head on her desk, she allowed herself to drift. She awoke startled and glanced at the clock on the wall. _9:09pm. _

"I'm not going home to another night of emptiness." Shaking her head she reached for the phone and called Alfred.

Fighting tears as he answered, "Hello Regan, where are you?"

"I'm out, and I will not be coming home tonight." Her voice void of any emotion.

"Master Wayne requests that you come home." He returned in a very concerned tone. Her hearing faintly picked up another voice. She knew it immediately. He was home, and, ironically, she wasn't.

"You can tell him that now he'll know what it feels like to be alone." She hung up. Yes, she was being childish, but she honestly couldn't help it. Her heart ached so badly from a lack of attention and affection.

Her cell began to ring. Glancing at the screen, she snorted. _I just hung up on the nicest man in Gotham, and he thinks i'm going to answer his call?_

Suddenly, the feeling of being suffocated attacked her. Regan was not prone to panic attacks, but this certainly felt like one. She put her files in her locked desk as fast as she could and left wordlessly.

The smells and sounds of the street immediately put her mind at ease. Her eyes stared intently on the street ahead of her. Nothing else mattered. The vibrations from her cell finally ceased. The usual alertness that Regan prided herself on was severely one noticed or recognized her as she passed by. It was one of those times that she felt normal and insignificant.

"Why?" She whispered to herself over and over again. Her mind was stuck on that question. She hung her head in sorrow.

Finding herself standing in a empty dingy alleyway, Regan wandered to the back corner, sat down, and waited. She just figured he'd eventually come find her. Minutes turned into whimpered and pulled her knees to her chest. How long until someone would come save her?

* * *

_Please review responsibly._


	24. Downfall

Disclaimer: Whatever DC & Nolan owns, they own…but one can wish!

Thank you for the reviews and the people who started following this story. It's short, but it's important. ;)

* * *

The temperature dropped dramatically as the night wore on. Regan subconsciously rubbed her arms to create friction. Why hadn't she grabbed her coat when she had left the office? _Careless, thoughtless, a fool_…her mind chided her.

"Rub your torso, your arms will take care of themselves," a strained voice sounded to her right. She jumped out of her stupor and stared into the darkness. Her grey eyes strained to see a figure in the darkness. She couldn't make out any details.

"Who are you?" She whispered as she climbed to her feet. Her mind cautioned her movements.

"An old friend of your fiancé." The voice came again, but this time more smooth and confident. She glared at the figure masked in darkness.

"I'm not interested." Regan calmly retorted. Her mind screamed that she should run.

As she began to make her way out of the alley, the voice taunted, "Oh you should. Thanks to your fiancé; you're on the short list to be chopped."

The man had been quicker than she had anticipated. Regan closed her eyes in defeat as she felt the muzzle of a gun being pressed against the back of her head. She thought that the Man of Steel was to be executioner—a many nights before, but now, it's a stranger from her loves past that has come knocking.

"Why?" A murmur sounded from her mouth. It was a knee jerk reaction, one that had been drilled into her since boot-camp. She swiftly side-stepped, turned, punched him in the gut, and wrenched the gun away from her assailant. Regan found herself pointing a gun at an older man with a goatee. She frowned as he smiled.

"Impressive. You managed to best me. Much more instinctual than your other half." He complimented. Her shoulders tensed.

"Enough. Name? Why?" She growled as she tried to reign in her adrenaline rush.

He chuckled, "Ra's Al Ghul. I'm here to finish what I had to start some years ago. Young lady, you're surrounded, but you may keep the gun. It may prove useful later. Who knows?"

Her eyes scanned the area, and she counted at least ten, if not more. She sighed heavily. Slowly lowering her weapon, her eyes locked with the older man. Everything clicked into place.

"You're the one that burned Bruce's house down. You thought he and his girl would do it for you—they were agents of chaos, and they did not accomplish what you had hoped. So you returned. You turned to Luthor and made him agree with your point of view. You destroy." She stated in a somber voice.

"And you're going to use me to bring him down." She added as she felt her eyes water as her heart swell with sadness. She had failed him. Her stubbornness had cost them everything. _I'm so sorry Bruce._

"Ah, you are a smart woman. Mr. Wayne chose well, and you are correct. You are to be his and your city's downfall."

* * *

So...who saw that coming? Am I reaching? I'm not sure I can tell anymore, but I do enjoy Mr. al Ghul.. Please review _responsibly_.


	25. Choices

Disclaimer: I don't own whatever DC Comics and Christopher Nolan have created. I own Regan and the story line.

Author's Note: I feel like I need to address some "issues." First, I know some are not happy with how I presented the Man of Steel. I wanted to make him human-esk. Comics, tv, movies, etc make him untouchable and present him as the most moral justice leaguer. Well, I sought to make him human. He can have integrity and still be desperate at times. My apologies for the rant. Second, I will explain Ra's Al Ghul's resurrection—I got it straight from the comics (thank you DC). Now, let us get back to the story. It's coming to an end! Soon…

* * *

Regan stared out into the darkness of the city. The gang of murders had yet to move from the alley entrance. Apparently, in her anger, she had wandered into the darker side of town. It appeared that Ra's Al Ghul was quite comfortable operating in this part. Her pride growled. Didn't they know that he was watching? Her protector was out there, watching their every move—thinking of contingency plans. She subconsciously gulped. _He was right? Right?_

Several city blocks over, a dark figure held special op binoculars to his eyes. He tightly gripped the lenses as he watched their swift, confident movements. His eyes naturally narrowed in fury as he gazed upon her. He noted that she was shivering, but also that she was taking note of their movements as well. He knew that she could handle herself in this situation, and he knew that she was meant to be his downfall.

His strong shoulders heaved a sigh. He couldn't leave her, but she would be livid if he gave up saving the people of Gotham for her. A choice was coming unless a miracle happened.

"You're going to leave her?" A strong voice sounded from behind. He didn't have to explain himself to the man in blue.

"No, I'm going to track her. Find their base, and we are going to save the city." He stated in an annoyed grovel tone.

"You placed a tracer on her?" He sounded surprised. Batman rolled his eyes at the man's shock.

"It's in her ring." He growled.

"I suppose this is where your paranoia is your friend. Speaking of friends, how is _he_ alive?"

The Dark Knight turned to face the alien. "In the ancient world, there are places that are rumored to bring people back to life—Lazarus pits. When I was training under him, Ra's was adamant about securing them, so they wouldn't _fall_ in to the _wrong _hands."

"Sounds like magic."

"Something like that." He returned his attention to his love. Ra's was going to make him choose. He closed his eyes.

* * *

Hours had passed and Regan had been moved to an underground location. She had been black-bagged and dragged. Left to rest on her knees, the smell of the sewer accosted her, and the sound of running water greeted her. She strained to hear more but failed to do so. Her eyes only saw darkness until the bag was roughly removed and unannounced. Her eyes quickly adjusted and focused on the individual standing before her. Ra's Al Ghul was back to taunt her. She glared as best as she could.

"You have quite the resume, but tell me, why do you let him get in the way? You were on your way to getting those drugs off the street, and you dive headfirst into his plans."

She remained silent. "Tsk, tsk, trying to play two lives. My dear, you cannot keep up with him. Did you honestly think you could?"

_He's right. You couldn't keep up. Your plan failed. _She hung her head.

"Tell me, when did you plan on telling him?" The question caught her off guard. _What is he talking about?_

"Your expression tells me that you do not know either. Miss Carmichael, I have had my men watching you for some time, and we kept track of all patterns of life. Did you not notice one was missing?"

Her heart nearly stopped. She reached for her stomach, but her hands were tied with zip-ties. How could she have not noticed? Her eyes dropped to her abdomen and tears welled up. _I'm pregnant._

"Tears of anguish?" He mocked as he turned his attention elsewhere. She had waited for this moment for years.

"Tears of joy." She fired back in a hoarse voice. He swiveled to face her with a sly smile.

"Tell me, how is this a joyful moment? You're going to die in the near future."

She felt a fire rise up within her. No longer was she fighting for just herself. "Why are you so sure of that? The Batman stopped you last time. You've already failed once, what's to say that won't happen again?"

"You have some fight left in you. That will serve you well." He stated dismissively as he left her. He motioned for some of his men to watch her. She made the choice at that very moment to escape. Biting her lip, Regan began to count the men around her. She was trained for this and she could escape...at least she thought she could.

"Well, what does your tracer say?" Batman glared at the man.

"I don't know, care to use your excellent vision?"

"The sarcasm is unappreciated." He paused and scanned the area. "She's underground and surrounded by five….no wait four men."

"The number changed?"

He chuckled, "Bruce, believe me when I say, that woman of yours is a force to be reckoned with. She's taking them out, one by one."

He glanced down at the tracer and noticed that it moved ever so slightly. _How?_ He wondered.

"Let's move in; it's time for the League of Shadows to meet its final end."

* * *

Regan grinned evilly as she stared at the unconscious bodies before. _That government summer program came in handy and an extreme amount of luck…_

She knew that she had not utilized her training in the past and regretted not using it sooner. However, she had relied on her brothers in arms and the Dark Knight to have her back. Tonight, there was no back-up that she was aware of. With her gun raised, she inched down the hallway. With her senses heightened, she sensed someone in the darkness ahead.

"Show yourself or I shoot. I won't hesitate." She hissed. "Three, two, on—"

"Easy." The Dark Knight growled as he left the darkness. She did not lower her gun and the glare in her eyes didn't lessen. He matched her glare.

"The assholes are back that way. I need to get out of here." She stated as she jerked her head in the direction in which she came.

"Two lefts and you're out."

He passed her, and she paused, "Wait."

She ran to him and kissed him passionately. As she pulled away, "You better come home tonight."

"I will." He breathed. "Run." He growled as shouts rang out.

Nodding, she took off like a bolt of lightning. Regan refused to look back. He could handle it; at least that's what she told herself.

When fresh air hit her face, a small feeling of relief crept over her. Nevertheless, she kept running. Eventually, she found a police precinct and entered. Regan was a sweaty mess and her hair was in complete disarray.

Her ears picked up someone approaching and strong voice questioned, "Miss, are you alright?"  
Turning, she looked at the patrol officer with sadness in her eyes, "No. I'd like to report an attempted kidnapping and possible terrorist attack."

"Ma'am?" He questioned in disbelief.

With a stern look, she relayed, "Listen here rookie, get Commissioner Gordon on the line and tell him Carmichael needs to talk to him asap."

* * *

_Please Review Responsibly_


	26. Maybe

Disclaimer: I do not own anything DC/Nolan related.

Note: I've decided to let my imagination run on this chapter. I've been restraining myself, but I've decided to let myself create a mess. ;)

* * *

Maybe the rookie comment had been a bit harsh. Maybe her judgment had been clouded. Maybe she had enough secrets to match his. Maybe…. _Too many maybes. _ She thought angrily.

Staring at the white wall in the interview room, Regan heaved a loud sigh. With perfect timing, the door opened to reveal a very concerned Commissioner Gordon. "Carmichael, what the hell happened?"

He took a seat across from her. To him, her disheveled appearance was new and alarming. She slowly turned her attention to him and stated with a level of uncertainty, "I was kidnapped by enemies of the Batman. They took me underground and held me captive for some time. They were planning on attacking Gotham. I managed to escape. The Batman is down in the sewers with those men right now."

"Do you know who the leader was? Name? Organization? Motive?"

"Ra's Al Ghul—the League of Shadows…they were, uh, responsible for the attack on the Narrows."

"Jesus. Is he gonna need back up?"

She cocked her head, "I'm not sure. I believe the Man of Steel maybe helping him tonight."

* * *

"You've failed Ra's." The Dark Knight menaced as he kicked the last ninja out of the way. He could hear the pain-filled howls of those who crossed the path of his "partner."

Ra's smiled at him, "Have I?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a detonator switch. Batman watched with narrowed eyes as the older man pressed down. There was stiffness in the air. Nothing happened. The Dark Knight smirked as he revealed a similar looking switch in his hand.

"You may want to upgrade your tech." The older man growled and moved to attack, but Batman managed to be quicker. He stepped out of the advance and easily used the man's inertia against him. Ra's found himself flat on his stomach with a heavy knee on his back.

"Losing your touch." Batman chided as he moved to tie his former mentor's hands.

"You haven't beaten me. You have forgotten to mind your surroundings." Batman was surprised when he heard a gun cock itself from behind him. Quickly, he knocked Ra's _unconscious_ and turned to face whoever had the upper hand. Much to his surprise, it was a young boy. He'd seen the boy before—in the Narrows. The boy was a master thief.

"Jason." Batman rasped as he analyzed the boy's resolve to carry out Ra's plan.

"He promised me food." The boy's voice was strong, but his resolve wasn't. "He lied to me." He slowly lowered the gun. With near perfect timing, Superman entered from the other side.

Batman ignored him and focused on the boy, "C'mon, let's get you what he promised then."

Jason nodded and remained silent as he set the gun on the ground. He cautiously walked toward the masked vigilante. The boy looked strong as he walked. His black hair hung unceremoniously in his face and his brown eyes were downcast. Batman ushered him away and glanced at his "friend."

"I trust you can take out the trash?"

"Done." Was the only response given. However, Superman didn't see a body where Batman had once stood. His eyes swept the sewers; that man had simply vanished. _He's not going to be happy. It happened right under his nose. The kid was a distraction._

* * *

Regan tiredly wrote down her statement. "I would like to go home."

"I understand that ma'am. We're almost done." The young officer stated as he waited for the higher ups to return.

"They don't believe me." She stated to him. He shifted uneasily and nodded with understanding.

"I do. If that means anything—I know why they used you against him." She swiveled quickly to face him. He was young, clean cut, but she recognized the fire in his eyes. Then she glanced at his uniform. She realized they had a cadet watching her. _Really? We need that much help?_

She read his name, "Blake, is it?"

"Yes ma'am, got some time before I'm out of cadet school. This morning was meant to be a tour of a precinct, but you had other plans." He slightly smiled.

"Uh huh, well cadet, keep what you think you may know to yourself. They'll call you a hothead—at least Foley will. If that becomes the case, I'll take ya in. My entire division is full of hotheads. Anyways, I need to go and see my fiancé…" Her voice trailed off as Gordon returned.

"Carmichael, you look like hell, SWAT just radioed in—your story checks out. Go home. You're on leave."

"Yes sir," she paused, "See ya around Blake, remember, I got a spot for you." The cadet smiled and nodded.

Gordon let out a chuckle as she left, "No matter how shitty it gets for her, she's always recruiting. You're lucky; she's one of the good ones."

As she made her way to the exit, she noticed a boy dressed in bright spandex sitting alone. She grabbed a patrolman and questioned, "What happened to him?"

The young man cleared his throat and tried not to make a fool out of himself in front of the famed cop, "His family was part of the circus that came to town. Uh, his parents were gunned down—he witnessed it."

There she was on her way to find comfort for herself and tell her love that they were expecting. Now she could care less about her personal comfort. She wasn't sure if it was the hormones, but she couldn't leave him alone.

"No relatives?" She questioned as her eyes returned to the boy. He was young, and he needed support. Her heart melted. His hair was jet black and she frowned as she couldn't see his eyes_. Bruce is going to kill me._ "Officer, please find me the social worker for this case. I'll take him with me." "Ma'am?" He questioned confused. "Just do it." She hissed as she moved towards the boy. Her ears picked up the man scurrying down the hall.

"Hey." She said gently. His eyes shifted up to see a beautifully messy woman walking toward him. She noticed his blue eyes held little life. "My name's Regan." She offered as she took a seat next to him. "What's your name?"

"Dick." His voice was quiet.

"How old are you?"

"Twelve."

Regan wasn't sure what to say after that.

"Look Dick, I know you're hurting, and I know I can't possibly begin to feel what you feel. But, I know that you don't want to stay in this stuffy police station. How would you like to come stay with me?"

His eyes flashed something unintelligible, and he stayed quiet mulling it over. _She doesn't seem so bad._

"Ok." He murmured to her. Regan nodded, and whispered, "I'm going to go sign some papers, and we'll go, ok?"

As she stood up, he did too. Regan tried to hide her smile. Regardless if she was living with Bruce, she would have helped this boy. There was something special about him. She held out her hand and he instantly grasped it in his smaller hand.

"Ah Lieutenant, you sure you wanna take on a kid?" The social worker dressed in a green worn down pant suit asked as she shoved the paperwork towards her. "I'm sure. He's special." She fired back, tightening her grip on his hand.

"Alright. I've got a huge workload, so I don't know when I'll be able to…" Regan interrupted the slightly plump social worker.

"Look Vanessa, let's not play games. I'll take him, and if he wants to stay with me, he can. I won't give him back. He's not going to a boys home."

"Easy Regan, I didn't mean nothing by it. Sign here and here, here…and he's yours till whenever." The signing had been quick. Regan didn't think gaining guardianship should be that easy, but she was happy that it didn't take long. Maybe it was because of who she was?

"Does he have any belongings?" She asked without looking up from the paperwork.

"No Regan." Everyone was surprised that he had answered. _Poor thing. _"Alright, that's easy to fix." She sensed his surprise. "Really?" He whispered. He moved closer to her side. _Who was this woman? _A cackling laughter from the social worker broke the silence, "Oh son, you're lucky to be going with her. She's will take good care of you—don't you worry."

Regan tensed at the woman's chiding. _Enough. _"I'll mail you the fee when I have my wallet back on me—it's at the office. Let's go Dick. We have a few stops to make."

* * *

After walking back her office, Regan and Dick found themselves in her car as she drove back toward Wayne Manor. Regan had managed to wash her face and find a hair tie- her hair presently a messy ponytail. The walk and ride had been quiet.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" He questioned out of the blue. _Great, he has a crush on me. _

"Something like that." She chuckled, and added, "But don't worry, you're much cuter than him." Regan smirked as she watched his cheeks turned red.

He was about to ask her something else, but Wayne Manor came into view and he gasped.

"You live here?!" He almost sounded alarmed.

"You mean, we live here, don't you?" She teased as she pulled into the garage and found her spot.

Alfred was there to greet her. "Ah Miss Carmichael, Master Bruce has been—oh, hello." He gave her a nervous look. "Alfred this is Dick. Dick this my good friend Alfred. Alfred, he'll be staying with us."

"Hello Master Dick. Welcome to Wayne Manor." Alfred turned his attention to Regan, "Miss, Master Bruce came home today with a guest as well."

Regan replied in an annoyed tone, "Did he now?"

"Yes Miss. Uh, I'm not sure how—" Regan left him mid-sentence. She grasped Dicks hand and led him inside.

"Oh Love!" she yelled in a sing song voice that made Dick laugh. However, his eyes were trained on his surroundings.

Regan kept Dick close. She already felt the maternal need to protect him. He was staying. Bruce did not have a say in it. There was a faint clatter of pots in the kitchen. _He's trying to cook. Oh boy._

"C'mon Dick." She beckoned as she led him further into the house. Dick paused and glanced at her. Regan signaled to be quiet and he nodded. They stood in the doorway and saw a sight that was rare: Bruce Wayne standing over a range full of pots. Her eyes swept the kitchen. Her eyes rested on boy around Dicks age. He was too busy shoveling food into his mouth to notice them.

Regan rolled her eyes, crouched, and whispered, "Alright Dick, we're going to surprise them. I know you have skills, so don't even try to back out. I need you to make your way to that mystery kid and on my signal say" hi" in his ear, and I'll do something much worse to the big guy."

Dick grinned and followed her lead. She pulled off her shoes and placed her things in the doorway. Crouching with ease, the cop and the acrobat made their way to each mark. Once he was in position, Regan nodded and yelled, "Boo!"

Bruce jumped and quickly turned to see Regan and another boy grinning from ear to ear. A muffled "ow" could be heard, and Regan was instantly by Dick and she scolded the mystery boy. "That wasn't very nice." She said sternly.

Bruce sighed. "Jason, they were trying to have fun. Don't hit other guests. Apologize to—"

"Dick." Regan quickly supplied.

"Sorry _Dick_."

Regan glared and watched Dick move around her. He was in the other boys face, "Shut up."

"What's with your clothes?"

"What's with yours? At least mine are clean."

"Enough." Bruce announced to the two. "Why don't you take Dick upstairs, Regan?"

Regan hissed back, "Already dismissing me, huh? Dick, I have an apartment in the city. Wanna help me pack?"

"Regan, I…" Bruce started.

"Enough. I've had enough. You have yours and I have mine. Two to be exact. I'll take care of myself, because that's all I've been doing lately. You have enough going on. Ra's was right. I can't dream of keeping up with you."

With that, she was already upstairs with the young acrobat. "Did I do something wrong?" Dick asked quietly.

Regan turned away from her packing and hugged him. "No Dick. Bruce and I have had problems. I want a peaceful place. That boy, I know him, he's a thief. I'm a cop. I can't do what he's going to ask of me right now. Wanna pick out what you think I should take?"

Within 20 minutes Regan had all she needed at the moment, the two walked back to the car. Alfred was once again waiting for them.

"Regan, you shouldn't leave him like this. Your news of your pregnancy. I just don't think you should go."

"No, Alfred. I need to. I need rest. I don't need to have a criminal running about causing trouble and treating others the way he did. Dick needs peace too. My apartment is plenty big. You can tell Bruce when he's ready to take care of me, he knows where to find me. Goodbye Alfred and thank you for everything."

Once on the road, Regan glanced at Dick and sighed. "I'm so sorry Dick. It wasn't supposed to be like this."

* * *

Now many of you are thinking, how can the author bring in both robins at the same time? She just did. Notice who chose who. ;) Now, will they ever be a happy family? Or is Regan approaching single mother status? For the two boys: Dick Grayson- a **young** milo ventimiglia and Jason Todd- a **younger** Josh Hutcherson._ Please Review Responsibly_.


	27. Orphan Like Me

Disclaimer: I still do not own DC or Nolan's creations.

Author's Note: This is just a quick update. (sorry)

* * *

Bruce remained in the kitchen with Jason. He was stunned. She had been so adamant that Batman was something she believed in. He sighed heavily.

Jason stared at him, "I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault, Master Jason." Alfred interjected as he walked into the kitchen. Alfred watched the conflicting emotions pour over Bruce's face.

"Where did I go wrong, Alfred?" He muttered as he turned his back to them both.

"Miss Carmichael waited for you every night, but you never came to bed. She tried to talk to you, and you asked about the case. You neglected your relationship severely. Not to mention, you dismissed her in front of both of your boys."

He turned back to them, and his eyes flashed a look of concern. "She said she was caring for two. We're pregnant, aren't we?"

Alfred faintly smiled, "She wanted to tell you in a different way."

Bruce nodded to himself and then glanced at Jason who remained silent. "What do you think Jason?"

"Why are you asking me? I only know her as the lead cop lady who doesn't like me. If she comes back, will you lighten up?"

Alfred rolled his eyes.

"Jason, why don't you head up to your room? Alfred and I need to talk further."

"Fine." He growled as he grabbed what food was left on the table and exited the room.

"Sir, are you sure he is a good idea? He's full of anger." Alfred warned.

"Let's give him a chance. About Regan and the other boy?"

"He was dressed in circus ware if I'm not mistaken. There was a tragedy last night—it was all over the news. Two of the Flying Graysons were gunned down, and their son witnessed it. I believe Miss Carmichael has taken him in."

"A orphan."

"Yes, Master Wayne, a orphan like you."

* * *

_Please Review Responsibly._


	28. Sooner Rather Than Later

Disclaimer: DC Comics and Warner Bros own Batman and related characters. I own the OCs.

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who favorited, reviewed, and chose to follow this story. I apologize for not updating; school and work had me in their clutches...

* * *

The shiny metallic elevator doors opened and released Regan and her new ward. As they approached the apartment door, Rae somberly fished for her keys. While she unlocked the door, her once dulled senses picked up on Dick's apprehensive mood. "It's alright Dick. At least you won't get lost." She forced a smile, and he smirked in response.

"Wow," he murmured as he took in the spacious apartment. "This is really…" he trailed off as his eyes took in the rich beige carpet that was surrounded by earth toned walls and fixtures. The furniture was modern but fed into the feeling of comfort.

"This was meant to be my quiet retreat. Never used it…I'll show you to your room." She babbled while leading him to one of the four bedrooms.

"Regan, this is really cool," he stated when his eyes met the red and gray themed room.

Regan genuinely smiled, "I thought you'd like this one." Dick dropped his bag and began to roam his fully furnished room, inspecting each inch with wonder. "We'll go shopping tomorrow." She added as she left him to unpack.

Regan knew she was lost. She was no longer certain of what she wanted. Her dream was to have a family of her own—well, she had half—the kid part. Could Batman fit? Could she continue to deal with Bruce's two-faced nature? No comfort. No companionship. No support. Her green eyes turned to gray as she took a seat on her purple queen bed. Regan's hands subconsciously held her lower abdomen. Her senses were telling her to worry about herself, her unborn child, and Dick. Finding power that she never knew she had, she rose to her feet and began to settle into her "safe house."

After ordering take-out, Regan found herself sitting on the couch next to Dick, watching the Gotham Knights on Thursday Night Football. They had been enjoying the game, and she found herself becoming increasingly attached to Dick. He reminded her of her as a young pre-teen—driven, passionate, and responsible.

"Regan?" He questioned, his eyes never leaving the TV screen.

"Hmm?" She responded lazily while poking at her chow mien.

"Since you're having a baby, does that mean I have to go away?" His question caught her off guard. How could he think that? Her gaze shifted to the young boy beside her. His attention was on her-waiting for a response.

"Never. I like you too much. Besides, I think the baby could use a big brother."

He smiled widely, nodded, and returned his eyes to the game.

Sometime after they said goodnight, Regan was awoken by Dick poking her.

Opening one eye, she murmured, "Can I help you?"

"I can't sleep….I swear I saw a big black thing in the living room." He whispered his eyes filled with fear.

"Okay, okay. Let's go check it out." Regan rose to her feet and headed to the living room. She smelled the air—he was here. 'Why?!' she screamed mentally.

"Ah, the Dark Knight. What can we do for you?" Her tone was sarcastic and sharp. When he spotted the large man stepping out of the shadows, Dick latched onto her arm .

"Miss Carmichael." He rasped. Regan glared and pulled Dick close.

"I don't have any information for you." She murmured.

"It's not information that I seek."

"Then what do you seek?" She questioned annoyed.

"I seek for my other half to come home." Dick gasped beside her and began to shout, "You…you're him…and he's you…OH MY GOD."

In one swift motion, Regan crouched to come face to face with Dick. "Easy Dick. This is a family secret. You're family. We don't reveal secrets to non-family. He will never hurt you, not as long as I'm around. I will protect you—always."

Dick nodded and turned his attention to the Dark Knight. He spat, "You hurt her again; you'll have to deal with me." A low, warning growl sounded from the Batman. Dick, however, did not back down. Regan rested a hand on his shoulder.

"We're not coming home just yet. You have some things to work on. Have Alfred call me when he thinks you're ready." She turned to Dick, "C'mon, you can sleep in my bed tonight."

"I trust you can leave the way you came." She threw over her shoulder as they duo headed back to bed.

Weeks passed and things had dramatically improved. Regan had managed to get Dick settled in and enrolled in school. Her OB/GYN said that everything looked good—so far. Dick had met her parents, well, his adoptive grandparents. He was already being spoiled. Christmas was on its way, and she was sure Dick had no idea how many gifts were heading his way.

Carmichael Industries was strong, and crime was down. Regan's life was, for once (in a long time), calm and in order.

Regan would never verbally admit that something, err someone was missing. As she sat her desk in the precinct, her mind wandered to him. His deep brown eyes, his scarred yet well-toned body, but his voice was what she missed the most.

"Lieutenant Carmichael?" A familiar voice questioned. She glanced at the doorway to see Alfred standing there looking rather worried. She had missed him as well.

"What can I do for you, Alfred?" She questioned with a hesitant smile.

"I've come to tell you that I think he's ready."

Regan automatically became rigid. "Are you sure?"

"As I can be. He's trying his best." Nodding, Regan returned her focus to the report on her desk.

"Thanks Alfred. I'll give him a call sometime this week."

"Sooner rather than later." It wasn't a question; it sounded more like a command to her. 'Something must be up.'

"Sooner rather than later," she affirmed as she caught his receding form out the corner of her eye.

* * *

_Please Review! (since it's almost Christmas, I'm thinking a Christmas themed chapter-thoughts?)_


	29. I'm Not Packing on Christmas Day

Disclaimer: I do not own anything by DC Comics or Christoper Nolan.

Author's Note: Merry Christmas! Thanks to all those who reviewed, favorited, followed, etc.

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"Dad, you seriously went overboard with the decorating this year." Regan murmured as she took in her parents holiday décor. Dick stood beside her taking in all the lights, bows, and nutcrackers. The faint rumble of model train echoed from the living room.

"I have a grandson, and a future grandchild. I'm making the mansion kid-friendly." He replied back with a huge grin.

Regan rolled her eyes, "Well, in that case, Merry Christmas, Dad." She hugged him tightly and moved toward her mother. Her mother had aged considerably since the whole Mercedes turned Harley Quinn incident. "Hey Mom, Merry Christmas."

"How's my grandbabies doing?" she returned. Regan raised an eyebrow. "I mean, Merry Christmas to you too darling." She passed her and went to greet Dick. Regan watched with amusement as her parents fussed over Dick. The whole 'how's school? Any girlfriends?' bit never got old. Dick had mentioned that he had taken a liking to Commissioner Gordon's daughter, Barbara. But now was not the time to embarrass him any further.

"Regan, where's Bruce?" Her father's voice pulled her out of musings. She looked like a deer caught in head lights. She hadn't called him. In fact, the tabloids had released photos of him and some model at a high class function a few weeks ago. That had been the final straw. The call had never been made. They were still in the apartment. She had removed her ring and began to wear it as a necklace instead. She was waiting for an apology.

"Uh, he..." She trailed off.

"I'm right here, Sir." Regan swiveled to see Bruce standing with Jason in the doorway. His arms full of gifts for the boys. Both Bruce and Jason were dressed in gray sweaters and black slacks. "Thank you for the invite, Mrs. Carmichael." Regan shot her Mom a glare. She paced toward them with a look of passiveness.

"Glad you could make it." She forced out as grabbed some of the gifts from his arms. Regan refused to make eye contact. Bruce frowned as he spied her ring on a chain, but his frown was replaced with surprise when he noticed that she was being to show. Her black pants and red sweater ensemble fit her well, but she had a little bump. Also, much to his surprise, Regan had cut her long hair off. Little did he know that she had cut it off the day that the tabloids had been published. The model had near her identical long hair, and Regan refused to have a doppelganger. Her make-up was done in golden tones which added to her pregnancy glow.

"You're showing?" He questioned. Regan nodded silently as she set the gifts down, under the 13 foot White Christmas themed tree.

Dick, dressed in black slacks and a cable blue sweater, cautiously approached Jason who seemed to be just as awkward as him. "So…" Dick began as Jason met him half way. "This is one cool awkward Christmas, huh?" Jason finished.

The boys grinned at one another. "Should we try to get them back together or just let them act like kids?"

"You have a plan?" Jason questioned as he watched the two exchange glares.

"Kinda. Mom needs to see him be romantic. We need to make him be that."

"Mom? You call her mom?" Jason asked in a hushed tone. Dick blushed and scratched the back of his head.

"I'll always love my parents, and I'm going to get revenge for what happened. But Regan, err, Mom, she's taken such good care of me, and I know that she cares about me. She worries so much about making me happy, and she spends all her spare time with me. It's like my Mom never really left…If that makes sense. I don't know."

Jason remained silent and then questioned, "She's not uptight?"

The Boy Wonder smirked, "Dude, she's cool."

Across the room, Regan was struggling to keep her emotions in check. Bruce was chatting up her dad like nothing had happened. Why were her parents so casual about everything? She turned her attention to the boys off in the corner who seemed to be getting along. Who was she supposed to talk to?

"I'm sorry." Her mom's voice sounded from her left.

"For what, Mom?" Regan turned to face her.

"I know that you're uncomfortable with having Bruce here. I saw the magazine pictures. I know you guys fought and you left." She paused and then added in a light tone, "Your father is horrible at keeping secrets."

Regan's eyes watered, "He hasn't apologized for anything."

"But it's Christmas. He and that boy didn't need to be alone." Regan's shoulders slouched in defeat.

"You win, Mom, okay?" Regan left the room and headed for the kitchen. Cravings had kicked in during their strained conversation. Pulling the refrigerator open, Regan scanned for her latest desire—pineapples. Unfortunately, it was the wrong season for pineapples. "Shit." She cursed as she closed the door.

"What are you looking for?" Regan jumped. She hadn't heard anyone, especially him, enter the room.

"Why do you care?" She countered as she took a deliberate step away from him. He visibly winced and seemed to think of a response. Regan decided it was time to confront him—screw if it was Christmas Eve.

"Was she all you hoped and dreamed? Did she keep your bed warm while I've been gone? Please tell me, she was able to fill my shoes in the cave?" Her voice was venomous and her eyes deadly.

His handsome face darkened and menaced back, "No."

"No to which, hmm? The fact that you let a woman hang on your arm when you put a ring on my finger is just…wrong. Do you even care about me, about us, the boys, our baby?" She raised her voice. The entire house could hear. The boys winced and remained in the other room—away from the impending drama. Her parents instantly entered the room to witness the battle of wills.

"Regan, it was never like that—you should know that. Of course I care. How could you think I didn't?"

"Really? You lost yourself to your work. You put that in front of everything. You never once addressed the elephant in the room. I finally understand what Rachel meant." It was a low blow.

He grew enraged, "Of course I noticed! I pushed as hard as I could to make it end. You left and everything fell apart. You didn't come back, even after Alfred told you...you didn't come back. I had her on my arm because she looked like you. You should know better than that. I came today to make things right, but I have a feeling that no matter what I say, you have already made up your mind."

Regan's gaze softened ever so slightly. "You're supposed to change my mind." She waited.

He closed the distance between the two of them. Wrapping his arms around her and keeping eye contact, he whispered, "It's always been you Rae. I love you, and I am sorry about what happened and what I did. I need you. The boys need us. I want us to be a family." He politely kissed her and as he pulled away, she pulled him into a deeper one. It was long, dragged out, and needy. A cough sounded from behind the couple. The two parted to see the boys watching them.

"Are you guys okay now?" Dick asked somewhat hesitantly. He had a strong feeling that the they'd be returning to the Palisades.

"Duh." Jason muttered under his breath causing the adults to laugh.

Dinner came and went. As soft 50's Christmas music drifted through the house, the Wayne's and Carmichaels found themselves sitting around the Christmas tree with the boys acting as Santa—passing out the gifts. "Grandpa Carmichael" had managed to get both of the boys to wear matching Santa hats. Both boys had given into their adoptive grandfathers begging. Bruce had managed to weasel his way out an elves hat, while Regan gave in and was currently wearing a pair of reindeer antlers. Clearly her parents had gone off the deep end, and since the drama was passed them, it gave them complete and utter freedom with their holiday cheer.

As time passed, Dick had managed to get a PS3, a vast amount of games, and season tickets for the Gotham City Rogues. Jason, on the other hand, received the rival X-Box, games, pocket knife, and an IPad. Both boys were grinning from ear to ear. Regan had received a few items for the baby and Bruce, a new watch and gloves.

"So, when are you moving back in with Bruce?" Her father questioned as he fiddled with his new cocktail set.

"The day after Christmas or something. I'm not going to spend Christmas Day packing."

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Merry Christmas! Please review with holiday cheer!


	30. Little Talks and Startling Information

_Note:_ My apologies for my long absence. School and work literally took away my free time. Anyways, thanks to all who have reviewed, favorited, followed, etc. I'm getting close to the end of this fic. I'm currently working on a series of one-shots under the title of "Enigma," but those will not be posted until this fic is completed.

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"What was she to you, really? I mean, are you with me for my looks?" Regan questioned concerned. The question had been on her mind since Christmas. She had called a "business" meeting to talk it out with him. There were things that were not previously addressed that definitely needed to be addressed.

"Of course there's more to my feelings than just lust. We both know the playboy persona is just an act. There was nothing. I thought by taking her out to one of those horrible parties it'd get your attention—that'd you'd come back." Regan's eyes dropped from his. By the tone of his voice, she knew he was telling the truth.

"Why didn't you just apologize?"

"I tried, but I was told I had to work on some things. I did and you still wouldn't come home. I was desperate. I thought that jealousy might bring you back. However, I was clearly wrong about that."

"For being a master detective, you're not very good at understanding women." She replied in a slightly annoyed tone.

"If it helps any, Alfred used some very choice words with me. I didn't know he could say those words." Regan smiled faintly at Alfred's loyalty.

"I'll come back under one condition." She knew that this was it. The moment that would define her future. She knew what she wanted.

"And that would be?"

"You must take at least one night off—at random to spend time with me and the boys." His strong jaw clenched in response. Her green eyes searched his stony face for any glimmer of hope.

Through gritted teeth, he murmured, "Fine." She wasn't sure if she should feel elated or worried. Would he hold this against her? Regan was trying to do right by the kids. They deserved to have him around. She deserved to have him around. Their unborn child deserved to have him around. They would be stronger.

"Thank you." She whispered. Regan knew she had to be strong and be positive, "There is some good news, I think it'll amuse you." She paused and watched his stony expression change into a more curious one.

"Dick is a natural at everything—his acrobatic skills are mind-blowing. I took him to the range; he has impeccable aim, and he is more observant than the average detective….but he wants to learn martial arts. I showed him some defensive moves, but I was thinking that maybe you could give him some lessons?"

His eyes danced with mischief. Whatever he was thinking about made Regan feel protective of Dick. "Oh? I think I could help him out with that. Jason's interested in guns. Constantly asking to learn how to clean and shoot a gun. Perhaps you two could bond at the firing range at some point?" He made no mention of what his plans were when it came to Dick, he was trying to distract her. She would let it go...for now.

Regan raised an eyebrow but responded positively, "When he proves to me that he can be responsible. I would love too."

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_Several days later…_

Regan found herself alongside Bruce at her doctor's appointment. Much to her displeasure, she had to buy maternity-wear. Regan hated being out of shape. Her sage green top had been pulled up in order to perform the ultrasound.

The tech was dressed in bright purple scrubs; her blonde hair was cut short and her oval face was covered in a light layer of make-up. She was in her early forties, and she gave off a motherly vibe. Regan felt comfortable with her. This visit made her nervous. Today they'd find out what the sex of the baby was.

"Hi, I'm Joan, and I'll be taking some pictures of your baby." She flashed the couple a smile as she placed the ultrasound wand on Regan's stomach.

Joan glanced at the chart and looked back at the ultrasound screen. Her brow furrowed. "Your chart says you're only having one?"

Regan nodded, "That's what the last tech told me." _'Oh, God,_' Regan thought to herself.

Joan grinned, "Well, he's a dope. You're pregnant with twins." Regan's eyes grew wide. Twins did not run in her family. How was this possible? She was going to be the mother of four kids. This was literally too much. She glanced at Bruce. He looked like a kid in a candy store. _'Just great.'_

Bruce chuckled, "Thank God the mansion's big." Regan remained silent.

Joan began taking pictures. "Would you like to know the sex of the twins?"

The duo gave each other a look and simultaneously answered, "Yes."

"A boy and a girl. Congratulations."

"At least I won't be alone anymore," Regan stated with a faint smile._ A small silver-lining._

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Please review responsibly. Can I add any more twists?! I let this chapter write itself. So, my apologies if anyone was "wtf" when reading it.


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